Evil Origins: A Horror & Dark Fantasy Collection (2 page)

Samuel
removed the paper sticking out from its fold. As with the pine needles, he
caught a faint whiff of the earthy, organic scent of the rawhide.

He
looked up and noticed that the sun had dropped closer to the horizon, as if
touching the tops of the trees to ignite them. Darkness crept closer,
surrounding the far edges of his vision. Samuel felt the chill of night coming,
and realized his exposure could kill him. Along with the chill came the
resurgence of instinct and the will to live.

***

The night came silently,
stealing the remaining light from the forest and replacing it with an
insufferable coldness. Samuel shuddered. He could no longer control the muscle
spasms that racked his body and occupied his mind. The yellow tape, the shoes,
the hunger. None if it mattered while his brain searched for a solution to the
numbing cold brought by the night.

Samuel reached
into his pocket, where he had stowed the mysterious artifacts. His hand found
the lighter, which he pulled out. Again he wrapped his thumb and finger around
the igniter, although the dropping temperature made it more difficult for him
to strike the flint. He tried again, once, twice. On the third strike, the
lighter coughed forth a weak flame. It flickered over the pinhole at the top of
the metal. Samuel felt the brief burst of warmth, and before he could place his
left hand over the top of it, the flame died. He shook the lighter and struck
the flint again. The green flame returned, and Samuel pushed the tiny lever on
the front of the lighter until the flame rose slightly higher than it had
before. He smiled and reached back into his pocket, removing scraps of paper
from the wallet and holding them over the flame. At first, the paper did
nothing but curl and twist from the heat. But after a few moments, the flame
leapt from the lighter. He dropped the lit paper to the ground and pushed dead
leaves on top of it. Curls of grey smoke floated upward, stinging his eyes and
burning his nose, and Samuel cried from the smoke. He could smell it. He was
alive. Within moments, the confined space between three pine trees blazed with
yellow and green flames. Samuel was standing closer to the bonfire than he
should have. His instinct told him to stand back, and yet the heat did not burn
him as it should. Samuel shoved the lighter into his pocket and scurried past
the fire, gathering pine needles, dried twigs, and branches. He was not sure
why, but he knew this fuel was needed to keep the fire going, to keep him
alive. Within a matter of moments, in units of time that Samuel could no longer
measure, he sat basking in the glow of a roaring bonfire. He felt its warmth
and closed his eyes. His stomach growled, protesting the sudden hunger brought
on by the activity.

Samuel laid his
head on the empty backpack and curled his feet closer to the fire. He felt
warm, and safe, and still very alone, until the howl pierced the air.

Samuel
scurried through the hastily made camp and gathered the articles dumped from
his pockets. As he stripped his clothes to the ground to rid himself of the
scent, his body shivered. His mind reeled as instinct took over. He could not
remember how he knew, but he recognized the howl of the alpha male. He knew the
pack was coming. He knew he would die.

The cold air
bit into his back as the paltry fire warmed his front. He took inventory of all
of the clothing he could gather from the abandoned tents, counting three shirts
of various sizes, two pairs of shorts, and one pair of athletic pants. He ran
to the pile and put the athletic pants on, followed by a pair of the shorts. He
picked up the T-shirt that he had worn and took a whiff. He could taste his own
body odor, but it did not carry the musky, organic, overpowering scent it
should have. Nevertheless, it was closest to his body’s scent and would have to
do. He set the undershirt aside and pulled the clothing over his head until he
stood dressed, with only a pair of shorts and a T-shirt left on the ground. He
ran to one of the pine trees standing guard over his haven, unable to find a
single knotted branch or knob that would serve him. He knew that the clearing
would soon be attacked by a pack of wild wolves, and he ran from one tree to
another until he found what he needed, grabbing the stained T-shirt and
wrapping the neckhole around a thin branch. He then snatched the shorts from
the ground and wrapped them over a piece of peeling bark. The clothes on the
tree sat higher than an average human, but he did not think the wolves would
discern that detail in the heat of the hunt.

Samuel heard
the soft crunch of the forest underbrush. He looked back and forth at the trees
and over the fire, spotting one low-hanging branch within his grasp. His
fingers fell a few inches short of the bark, and when he heard the low, earthy
growls, he realized he had seconds to make a decision. Samuel jumped and
grabbed the branch with both hands while swinging his legs as high as he could.
Several objects fell from his pockets and clattered in a pile beneath the tree.
As he glanced down, Samuel saw the first set of yellow eyes materialize from
the dark recesses beyond the fire. He squinted and heaved upward until he sat
on the branch with his feet dangling five feet from the ground. The alpha male
came first.

***

It smelled the
burning wood long before its eyes found the origin of the flame. The creature
nuzzled its nose deep into dank fur and flicked its ears twice before turning its
muzzle toward the sky, letting loose with a growl that sounded more human than
beast. Within moments, the rest of the pack surrounded the alpha male. Sets of
yellow eyes darted back and forth through the hulking, black trunks. They
seemed to disappear and reappear as though floating through the night.

One has
found flame.

The pack
settled and circled around the leader. With his fur rankled, he bared his
pointy teeth at the slightly younger, more aggressive males.

My kill,
then your carcass.

Although not
the egalitarian split most of the creatures desired, it was the way. It had
always been the way, and would always be the way.

The alpha male
trotted across a felled tree, the trunk resting on a rocky outcrop jutting
twenty feet high. He approached the zenith and stopped, catching the scent of
fire, smoke, and human in the air. While he did not share the same sense of
time and space as other mammals, the wolf registered surprise. He had not
expected man to still be here, and if he was, he had not expected man to enter
his domain.

Blood.

The rest of the
pack reared up behind the leader, letting loose with several rounds of howling,
barking, and gnashing. Several of the larger, older creatures snapped at the
females. They tore away chunks of fur, along with the sense of calm that the
pack had recently shared. The leader had called for blood. The hunt was on.

The alpha male
leapt from the trunk, his sinewy frame propelled through the trees as if by an otherworldly
force, pulling his front legs back until they almost met his hind legs. The
creature sprinted, and the pack followed at the acceptable and respected
distance. The alpha male would not find a challenger this night—the first blood
would belong to him. The pack undulated, a brown, grey, and silver mass weaving
through the trees and toward the fire springing up from the forest floor. Some
of the cubs whimpered and ran beneath their mothers, for they had yet to
witness the power of flame.

The alpha male
crested a slight rise and slowed his descent toward the valley, scanning the
horizon to see the thin, white line of Brother Moon. The creature stopped, his tongue
flicking across his frozen muzzle. He lifted his head up and howled again.

The
top arch of the moon poked above the tree line, but would rise no farther. The alpha
male knew. He mourned the loss of the sky god hanging over the valley and
illuminating the kills. Brother Moon held his gaze low like an insolent child,
a bit lower each cycle.

The pack
scampered behind the alpha male and waited. The creatures paced about with deep
growls as they too gazed at the bright epicenter of the valley, cursing the
unnatural flame and drooling at the prospect of tearing its creator apart.

The alpha male
dropped low, ears up. He moved methodically through the trees until the faint
aroma of burning pine reached his nose. The creatures had not lost the scent. Not
yet. The others followed with growling bellies and cautious optimism. The feast
would be the first in a long while. Mothers would push their cubs back from the
killing spot and toss them the battered entrails left after the surge.

The alpha male
continued to lead. The crackling of the burning wood became louder, but
remained muffled in the heavy air. He listened for the guttural tone of a human
voice, but did not hear it, and he sniffed the air again, this time detecting the
source of the scent.

Alone.

The younger,
more aggressive males became excited by the thought. Single prey meant greater
success in the kill. The wolves nudged each other, even going so far as to bare
teeth to preserve the attack order. After the alpha male had eaten, a battle
would ensue for the bloody remains.

The alpha male
spun with his hackles raised. He growled and bared pointy, yellow teeth at his
pack. They would fear him or be consumed by him. At least that was how it had
always been. The others cowered, especially the females and the cubs. A few of
the more mature males skittered to the side but did not retreat. They sized up
the alpha male, sensing that they too might someday lead the pack. Someday.

Now.

He reared his
head and howled. The rest of the pack imitated the alpha male until the sound
consumed the dead of the night. He raced from his lead position toward the fire,
with the pack following, dashing between trunks, through the remains of yellow
tape, and over lonely shoes with decayed laces. He sprinted over forgotten
bones and rotted, canvas tents. He kicked the artifacts of the world to the
side, where they tumbled into silent obscurity.

The fire grew
as the alpha male led his pack to the fight. It had been a long time since human
blood had spilled in the valley, and the alpha male basked in the anticipation.
Although his eyes had lost range and focus, he was able to detect the human
form against the tree on the far side of the fire. The yellow and green flames
distorted the shape, but not enough to confuse the alpha male. The pack snapped
at each other’s tails as they followed the leader to the kill zone. Females,
cubs, and old wolves became lost in the instinctual euphoria of the kill.

He flew from
the path, dashed around a fallen limb, and turned straight for his prey. The alpha
male’s eyes lit, his snout pulsing with the chemicals of the human scent. He
made one final lunge to the right of the fire and skidded to a halt in the dry
dirt at the base of the tree. His head twitched back and forth at the shirt and
pair of pants tacked there, and he did not need to communicate his disgust and
disappointment to the pack. His belly growled in protest of the ruse.

Chapter 2

The leader
approached his prey and looked up. The rest of the pack filled in behind the alpha
male but kept their distance from the unnatural fire. The creature paced around
the flames, sniffing the objects on the ground, and then craned its neck upward
at the feet of the human.

It
must come down. That is the command given and the one I must follow.

The rest of the
pack whined and shuffled about. Several of the cubs lay on the ground, enjoying
the meager warmth provided by the man’s fire, while the male wolves stood
behind the leader and looked up into the tree.

“Leave me
alone,” Samuel shouted to the beasts below.

He thought he
could hear the alpha male chuckle. The sound escaped the wolf’s muzzle like a
short guffaw.

“Get out of
here.”

The wolves
stood at attention, staring up at him. One would break off, circle its tail,
and then come back to attention at the base of the tree.

Samuel looked
up into the pine. Branches sprouted from the base of the trunk like a pinwheel
extending up into the blackness. Tendrils of smoke raced between them as the
fire burned down to yellow coals, releasing the hiss of water inside the damp
wood. Samuel reached for the next closest branch and climbed higher, until he
sat on a wider branch, taking a deep breath and looking down at the pack twenty
feet below.

We wait.

The alpha male
dropped its hind legs to the ground, and its ears came up. The other hunters
did the same, while the female wolves attended to nursing cubs. The pack formed
a circle around the base of the tree.

Samuel felt a
rumble in his stomach, and a pain gripped his side. He could not remember the
last time he ate. He rubbed the blooming bruises on his neck, the painful
reminder of his time inside the noose. Samuel looked out from the trees,
convinced that he had found temporary refuge from the pack. A sliver of the
moon appeared above the canopy of pines, blossoming like spilt milk into the
night sky.