Free Skinwalkers by Bear Hill Page B

monsters seemed to smile in recognition of the sound. Their muzzles peeled back to grotesque proportions to showcase rows of horrible, jagged fangs. The bounty hunter flung his empty rifle at the beast closest to him. The monster flinched, causing its brother to hesitate, allowing the bounty hunter time to draw his revolvers.   The bounty hunter unloaded both cartridges in a hail of fiery explosions. They coyote men dropped lifeless at his feet.
    The bounty hunter raced to reload his guns as more of the monsters charged. They seemed to come in endless waves, a new line of horrific visions stampeding through the mist to replace the one before it.
    Then time ran out for the bounty hunter as one of beasts struck him, sending him flailing through the air to land beside Maxine and her son. He’d had the sense to hold on to his revolvers, but with the guns still half empty, the bounty hunter knew the action was wasted.
    The thing pounced and, in that breath-long moment of eternity, the bounty hunter knew he was going to die and wondered how things had come to be for him as they were. But he was spared as the doc’s scalpel twirled through the air and sank into the monstrosity’s eye with a gush of blood. The coyote-thing cringed and wavered in its trajectory. Its new course caused the monster to crash beside the bounty hunter. As it did, his revolvers erased the monster’s life.
    We can’t defend this place, the bounty hunter thought. We stay here, we’re dead.
    The only option available sprang into his mind: The mission.
    The bounty hunter leapt to his feet. He grabbed Maxine by her arm. “Come on!“
    Then he yelled to the room at large. “ Out the back! To the mission! “
     
    “W ho’s that tripping over my bridge?“
    “Stop it, Luke!“
    “Don’t be such a baby, J.T.“
    “Yeah, don’t be such a baby, J.T.“
    “I’m not a baby!“
    “Cry baby! Cry baby! Wah ! Wah ! Wah !“
    “I said stop it, Luke!“ Farnsworth lunged at his older brother. Luke dodged and J.T. went tumbling to the ground in front of his father’s wood shed. J.T.’s shin struck a rock as he landed and he howled in pain.
    “That’s it, cry baby!“ Toby said. “Cry!“
    “Cry you stupid …“ Mark trailed off, groping for a clever put down. However, he was anything but clever, so he went with the tried and true. “Baby!“
    J.T. sat up and inspected his knee. The rock had cut through his pants leg and taken the hide of his shin so that it was a red mess. J.T. was the smallest of the four boys and paid for it daily. To add insult to injury, they knew what an active imagination he had and so constantly hounded him with tales of monsters and ghouls. When Luke really wanted to terrify him, he brought up the troll from Billy Goats Gruff.
    J.T. had slept little since his father had told them that story. He spent his nights awake and trembling beneath sheets pulled up to his chin, knowing without question at any moment he would hear the troll’s voice echoing up from under his bed. He’d see slimy, wart-covered hands creeping over the foot of his blankets. The troll’s yellow eyes would appear like twin moons to glare at him as though he were a piece of meat. The troll would smile at him, revealing its black fangs, the pieces of rotted flesh from its last victim still wedged between them.
    Then J.T. would scream at the top of his lungs, awakening everyone in the house. His mother would come in terrified, trying to ask him questions only to be pushed away by his father for a disciplinary session with his belt.
    J.T. looked up and scowled as the boys laughed at the tears draining from his eyes. “Oh yeah? Just go ahead and laugh. You’ll pay for it with your souls!“ J.T. rose to his knees and stretched his arms out in supplication. He rolled his eyes back in his head and began to chant nonsense at the top of his lungs.
    Luke stopped laughing. “Cut that out.“
      J.T.’s chanting grew louder.
    “What’s he doing?“ Mark asked,