Skinwalkers (25 page)

“No, plea
—!“
Arrington only got out the much because the bounty hunter wanted to see the look in the captain’s eyes when the realization of his imminent death struck him. Dewayne was a killer
,
too, after all.

Whether his murder of his wife and unborn child had been the accidental harbinger of his ruination or simply the key
unlocking
his truth self, Dewayne
didn’t
know. God refused to take him from his misery, and he was too much of a coward to do it himself. And Dewayne was simply tired of worrying about it
—
tired of fighting what came so naturally to him.

Dewayne pulled the
gun’s
trigger and Captain Arrington’s face exploded into a fragmented mess of blood, skin, and bone. The captain’s dead body rose into the air and then landed spread-eagle on its back, a bloody halo of gore splattering from the head.

Dewayne struggled to his feet.
Pistol
still in hand, he limped out of the saloon into the fog. Fuck the
skinwalkers
if they came. He simply didn’t care anymore.

From
The Devil and Coyote: A Comparison
by Michael Lander
...

L
ike Satan in the Garden of Eden, Coyote also plays a role in the creation myths of many Native American cultures. One story surrounding the creation of life upon earth has Coyote shaping a ball of mud, or in certain more graphic versions of the tale, a ball of feces, that results in the formation of the first man. Like so many other stories attributed to Coyote, his actions cannot be attributed to good will on his part, but of his desire to gain power and create havoc for the more benevolent spirits. Coyote’s behavior in this regard mirrors Satan’s temptation of Eve with the fruit from the tree of knowledge of good and evil. Akin to Coyote’s creation of sentient man, Satan’s imparting of knowledge to humanity would seem to be a blessing. But Satan realizes the misery inherent in personal awareness and also wishes to defy God while corrupting His creation.

This role of trickster is expanded for Satan in the book of Job, bringing him closer in nature to the point of counterbalance Coyote typically maintains in mythology. In Job, Satan is not portrayed so much the deceiver as the ordained prosecutor of man in the court of God, a crucible through which humanity must pass in order reach its true potential. No doubt this is a dualistic tenant left over from the earlier polytheistic religions similar in nature to those practiced by many Native American tribes. Likewise, Coyote serves the mythic role of Prometheus in Native American folklore, bringing bountiful harvest and spiritual illumination to the tribes, even if only doing so by accident or through self-serving and irrational behaviors.

However, despite Coyote’s role as mythology’s anti-hero, where he shares the more noble qualities attributed to Satan, he also shares his Christian counterpart’s proclivity for debasement and outright evil. The most revealing instance of this occurs when Coyote journeys to the afterlife in attempt to free his wife from death. In his failure to follow the instructions of his spirit guide, Coyote establishes the permanence of death for all of humankind. Most scholars accredit this tragedy to the usual bungling of which Coyote partakes in all his misadventures. But if one looks below the surface of the tale, a darker motive for Coyote’s actions quickly becomes apparent.

To begin with, considering the strained relationship between Coyote and his spouse described in other stories, coupled with the trickster’s boundless appetite for infidelity, it is difficult for one to assume Coyote’s true purpose in journeying to the spirit world was to reclaim a dead wife for whom he cared extremely little. Would it not be prove more logical to think Coyote purposely ignored the advice of his spirit guide—that he knew perfectly well what he was doing and in truth wanted only to ensure death’s lasting effects in our world?

Coyote’s limitless ego and insatiable desire to create mayhem would certainly seem to indicate he was capable of such evil for evil’s sake. Thus, once again a parallel is formed between Coyote and the biblical Satan whose pride and blinding hatred brings damnation to all…

COYOTE

C
oyote awoke from his trance as he heard the horses of the Dine approach his cave. He’d had another name once long ago, ages before he’d killed his baby sister
in
sacrifice to the true Coyote
—
the
chindi
trickster who walked upon all fours. But his human name no longer held meaning for him. Now there was only Coyote in his heart.

His sister’s murder had been the first of countless others. Each death had opened a new door for him into a world of dark powers. And power was what Coyote craved most. It was why he’d turned the white captain’s already twisted mind toward the tribe of his birth. Coyote’s strength had surged with each
grandfather
, woman, and child the white captain and his soldiers struck down.

The Dine men had returned from their raids to find their homes burned, their loved ones killed. Coyote had used his medicine to fuel their warriors’ blood, pushing their rage and hatred into an insatiable lust for revenge. They could not match the soldier’s guns with their own, but it had taken Coyote little effort to make them think of him and how his
yenaldooshi
abilities might grant their wish for vengeance.
 

The Dine would now fall unwittingly into his trap. They would give their souls to him freely, increasing Coyote’s power still more. His plan had been executed to perfection.

Coyote heard the horses halt outside his cave. One of the warriors called to Coyote, his voice full of pain and indignation. Coyote’s lips pulled back into a grotesque parody of a smile and the ancient
skinwalker
rose to his feet. It was time to put into motion the final act of his ruse. It was time for corruption and death.

It was time for Coyote.

C
oyote fell backward as the force of the mission’s explosion rocked the hillside. He heard his
skinwalkers
yowling in pain. Coyote watched through the eyes of
the
chindi
not killed outright as their pelts were engulfed by bright orange flame. Coyote felt the
skinwalkers
’ agony as his own as they were cooked alive inside the burning church. Then the world fell into darkness and he sensed the
skinwalkers
no more.

Coyote got to his feet and cursed the heavens. That had been all of them
.
Every last Dine he’d changed into a
skinwalker
.
Gone in one accursed moment
—
one unforgivable lapse in his judgment
.

Coyote felt his power slipping away
—
sensed his beautifully conjured fog fading from existence. This was not fair! This was not how things were supposed to have happened
.
Not so soon!

He’d wanted them all dead
.
Not just the soldiers. Why stop there when every murder committed by his
skinwalkers
added to his power? He wanted to wipe out the entire town. Kill every man, woman, and child and then continue onward. He’d never known such power in all his years as a
yenaldooshi
, and now it was slipping from his grasp
.

Coyote was consumed with rage. He screamed and shook his fists at the sky. He was Coyote! No one like him had ever walked the earth. How dare his plans be thwarted! How dare he be denied ultimate power! He could not go back to the way things had been before. Not now.

Coyote abruptly quieted as he sensed a life force come into being on the hillside far below him. It was the woman. It seemed to Coyote as though she had sprouted out of the ground. If he’d had functioning eyes, Coyote thought he could’ve discerned the mystery of her appearance and
pinpointed
her exact location. But with the
milky
orbs in his head being dead as his
skinwalkers
, Coyote had to trust his ever
-
weakening spiritual powers of perception for guidance. And precision was not a skill open to them. But it mattered not.

A low growl began to rise in Coyote’s throat as his hatred of the woman rose in his heart. Coyote was not done yet. He had one last trick to play in Perdition
—
one last sacrifice to perform.

Coyote rent his clothes from his body. The growl in his throat became a howl, and he began to change.

M
axine lay face down on the tunnel’s earthen floor, stinging first
-
degree burns covering the back of her legs, arms, and shoulders.
Smoke
hung heavy in the tunnel along with the stench of singed hair and cloth. She began to tremble and, before she could stop it, bile rose in her throat and exited her mouth.

Get it together, girl
, Max chided inside her mind.
You’re safe. You killed them all
.

You don’t know that
, Maxine thought as she wiped her mouth.
There could be more. We have no way of knowing, for sure
.

You don’t see any coyote-men crawling up the tunnel to kill you, do you
? Max thought.

Maxine raised her head and glanced back over her shoulder. Nothing other than dancing flames moved before the tunnel mouth.

Based on what we’ve seen tonight
, Max continued,
if there was any of those sons of bitches left, we’d be dinner right about now
.

Maxine strained her ears, listening for any howls that might rise above the roar of the fire. She heard none.
So what do we do
?

Well, going back is out of the question
, Maxine’s fractured mind replied
.
So we crawl forward. There’s a draft in this hole. It’s got to come out somewhere
.

Maxine remembered how she’d first noticed the tunnel by the draft coming from behind the crate positioned against the pit wall. She closed her eyes and felt the same
breeze
sliding over her face toward the fire burning at the tunnel’s mouth.

Come on
, Max thought.
Enough stalling. Get a move on
.

Maxine nodded to her imaginary alter ego and then rose to her hands and knees. She
crawled
forward, taking care to circumvent her vomit.
The
firelight issuing from the mission pit began to peter out until finally she was engulfed by darkness. She continued
on
, being cautious as she used her hands to guide her down the tunnel’s black throat. Maxine recoiled as she touched something alive that was wet and furry.
 
Dear God
! Maxine thought. T
hey’re here! They’re in the tunnel
!

The rat Maxine had touched shrieked and then bolted past her, heading in the direction of the pit. Both relieved and disgusted, Maxine sighed and pressed onward. Lunatic thoughts began to parade through her head.
What if this tunnel goes on forever? What if I’m really dead and already in hell, doomed to crawl in darkness on my hands and knees for all eternity? What if my life above ground was
only
a dream in the first place, and this is the true reality of my
exis
—?

Shut that shit up, girl
. Max warned.
You’re crazy, but you
ain’t
CRAZY
.

Maxine felt her hands press down on something brittle
. It
cracked like
an egg shell
beneath her weight. Maxine felt several sets of tiny, chitinous legs scurry up her arms and screamed as she realized she was crawling through a bed of insects. Maxine’s yell was cut short as she felt a lone bug enter her mouth. Moving on instinct, she clamped her jaws shut. She felt the tiny intruder struggling between the roof of her mouth and her tongue, trying to burrow its way to the freedom it must have believed lay down her throat. Maxine spat repeatedly, trying to rid her mouth of the bug as she scrambled forward through the bed of its brothers. They crawled all over her now, their spindly legs scrambling up her hair and clothes to her unprotected face. She spat and beat at her body, feeling the bugs smash into gelatinous goo beneath her hands as she swiped them away.

Maxine spat the bug from her mouth as she felt the insects lessen and then disappear from beneath her hands and knees. She brushed the last of the bugs from her body and scurried forward, praying her time inside the tunnel would soon be at an end. She wasn’t sure how much longer her already
-
cracked psyche could stand creeping through bugs and rats in the darkness.

At last, Maxine saw a
faint
light spilling down into the tunnel ahead of her. Renewed hope surged within her. Maxine increased the speed of her crawl until she was almost galloping toward the promise of an exit. Maxine froze in her tracks when she saw a
skinwalker
sprawled on the tunnel floor beneath the mocking light.