King of the Horseflies (3 page)

“That’s everything, sir,” Ricky shouts.
The sheriff, still looking around in the woods, reaches for the bag.

“Let me see that thing.” He stretches the bag open and angles it so more sunlight can illuminate the interior. As he examines it, he notices that a whip stitch that is normally used to quickly repair broken seams was used on the inside.

“What do we got here? I need a knife!” the sheriff shouts. The mechanic runs over and hands him a pocket knife.

“Here you go,
Sher!” He hits a button on the side of the knife, and the blade snaps open. He reaches inside and splits the stitches like he is gutting a hog. He tosses the knife back to the mechanic. Jerry flinches as he catches the knife.

“What the heck? You almost stabbed me,” the mechanic shouts.

Sheriff Willy opens the seam and reaches inside. “I got something,” he says. He wiggles the item back and forth and struggles to pull it out. The Sheriff reaches in with both hands and rips open more stitches to get whatever is stuck inside out of there.

“What the heck is this?” He pulls out a shiny, black, semi-metallic stone that is smooth on one side and jagged on the other. One of the hunters spouts, “Is that a lump of coal?”

“Looks like it,” says the mechanic.

“Could be Kryptonite,” says Ricky.

“That ain’t no damn Kryptonite, you idiot, and we damn sure ain’t chasin’ Lex Luthor,” says the sheriff.

“Looks like it could be valuable the way he got it all tucked up all under there. I say we take it back to town and see what Mr. Travis thinks
it’s worth,” he whispers to his crew. “Carver, we found your good luck charm in your bag! I say we call it even. Let’s just say you bailed yourself out and we received payment in full.”

The mechanic replies, “Hell no, I want to get that son of—.”

“Calm down, you’ll get your chance, trust me. If this thing is worth this much to him, as I think it is, he’ll come to us,” says the sheriff.

“I hope you’re right.”

“Tell you what, Carver. Why don’t you sleep on it? Have a good night! Let’s head back," he says to the others.

Carver observes the men as they trek back across the creek. One, two, three, four, five, six he counts in his head. He has a look in his eyes that mortal men have developed prior to entering the battle field.

Chapter 4

Hocus Pocus

Thick fog engulfs the heavily wooded canopy of two to three hundred foot conifer, oak, and redwood trees. The forest’s stature lays beautiful, yet it stands menacing above its inhabitants. This part of the country can remind anyone just how small they really are just by looking straight up. The tallest organisms on earth are located right here. They were here long before any of our grandparents, grandparents’ ancestors were conceived, and they will be here long after we’re gone. In the mindset of Carver, the latter will arrive for the men who took his only possession much sooner than they expect.

Carver walks back to his bag and gathers the contents that Deputy Ricky so rudely spread across the ground. After collecting his belongings, he decides he is going to need a weapon after losing
Bama’s gun somewhere near the river. Carver, within his abilities, doesn’t need a weapon…he needs ammo. To do so requires a good nose to locate decaying or dead flesh and bone. It is a bit more difficult to track down after a heavy rain fall as was the case the previous night, but it is still possible. Carver searches for as many bones as possible while following the hunting team.

He picks up the scent of an animal corpse. The smell that would make ordinary men gag gets him excited. Slumped over by the base of a tree is the body of a rabbit that must have been dead for at least five days. Maggots and flies swarm the body as he elevates the animal with his ability. He angles his fingers at the body as if he is picking the bones out of a fish. The thigh bones are removed almost instantaneously along with the head and the ribs. All of the flesh that was left behind plops on the floor for the maggots to finish off. Carver makes the bones spin parallel to him while he walks to dry off the blood. Once dried, he breaks the thighs and ribs off into sharp shards and elevates them into his backpack without ever physically touching them.

The next step is to find the hunting team, eliminate them, and get his stone back into his possession. The first time he knew he had this ability wasn’t as cool as one would think. During the time he spent in the inner city, he was able to have a steady meal every day from restaurants and stores that threw away expired or unused food. After a KFC employee dropped the unused food into the dumpster, Carver followed shortly. He lifted the dumpster’s cover and leaped up on the container’s edge to look inside. The container was only a quarter full, which required Carver to lean over and reach for the partially open trash bag. Seeing the contents within only inches, he focused all of his energy on reaching the food. Just as he did so, a still warm piece of the colonel’s original recipe flew right into his open hand. Shocked, he flew backward out of the trash bin and onto the ground. He looked at the chicken breast in his hand and tossed it on the ground. He tried it again and was able to duplicate his action.

He was confused as to how he was able to do something he only saw Jean Grey do in the comic books. He practiced at any chance he could to see what the limits of his newfound power were. He came to the conclusion that it only works on anything that once had breath and not inanimate objects. This has all started since he’s been in possession of the stone, the same stone that has been giving him the urge to head towards the north.

That same urge is leading him to the exact location of the stone the hunters now possess. The same urge will drive him to do whatever is necessary to get it back. This feeling has driven him to the edge of darkness.

As he walks on, he can sense everything around him. Like the owl that sits on the branch fifty yards to his right watching his every step. The rabbit that hides behind a small bush just five steps away. He can hear every insect, from gnat to cicada, within a hundred yards.

He begins to tune his focus and senses on the task at hand, which is to find the tracks of the hunters scuttling back to town.

The sheriff turns to the hunting crew like a QB in talking to his team in the huddle.

"Okay, so here’s the plan. I want y’all to make sure he doesn’t get right up on us before we get back to town and surprise us. So I want y’all to stay back a li’l and slow him down till I get back to my house,” says the sheriff.

“Are you sure he’s going to even be following us?” asks the mechanic.

“Yeah, the way he stuck his neck out for that bag assured me he won’t be far behind. And if he ain’t, well at least we got a consolation prize with that stone. Ricky, when you get back, let me know, will you?”

“Sure thing, sir,” Ricky replies.
The sheriff continues the walk into town by himself as the rest of the crew slow their pace to a snail’s crawl.

“What’s the plan, Dan?” Jerry says to the deputy as he adjusts his bandaged hand.

Deputy Ricky looks up at the men, not sure of what to do or say. The men stare back at him for guidance even though they know he doesn’t have a lick of leadership in is bones.

“Um, I guess the smart thing to do—”

“Let’s all just spread out real good so he don’t get by us while we walk back to town,” W2 interrupts.

“And I’ll tell you what? If I see that boy, I’m
shootin’ to kill! He’s dangerous!” Jerry adds in a heavy Southern accent.

“Me too.
If he comes back this way, he’s good as dead,” another hunter adds in a worrisome voice.

“All right, y’all, lets spread out before he sees us,” says W2. They all begin to spread out to the point that they can’t see each other through the trees and brush.

The sun finally begins to go down under the stratus cloud-filled sky since walking throughout the day. Fog as thick as cotton begins to thicken to where it brings the appearance that it could be cut and removed from the space it occupies. One of the hunters tries to fan the fog out of the way to see where he’s going, but then he stops in his tracks. He turns around because he thought he heard someone step behind him. He squints and tries to look through the fog. A dark silhouette begins to form as if it were floating out of the fog. “Ricky?” he begins to whisper as it comes closer.

The figure’s eyes begin to glow noticeably through the fog. It begins to move its arms upwards. The hunter’s eyes widen, and he takes a deep breath and tries to raise his shotgun to shoot, but before he can make a sound, numerous bone arrows stab through his mouth, protruding from the back of his head. The body flies backward like being blasted by a sawed off shotgun. Before the body can land on the ground and alert anyone, Carver makes the body hover above the ground and raises it into the air.

Ricky also trying to see his way through the fog stops when he hears the sound of branches snapping. He looks behind but doesn’t see anything through the fog. The sound progressively gets louder and closer like something is running towards him. Ricky begins to shoot in the general direction of the noise with his rifle. With every shot he takes, Ricky screams in fear.

“
Ahh!” BAM! “Ahh!” BAM!

He senses something from above, so he looks up and sees a dark mass emerge from the fog. Ricky takes a shot at the mass, not knowing what it is. The mass nearly drops on top of him as he jumps out of the way onto the ground.
“Ahhh!” Bam! He screams and shoots again. Ricky gets up and shines his flashlight at the mass and sees the hunter with the bones sticking out of his mouth, eyes rolled to the back of his head, involuntarily twitching on the ground. “
What in the world is going on
?” Ricky thinks to himself.

“Ricky!
Ricky!?” W2 yells in his distinct, raspy voice.

“Over here Wallace!”

W2 runs up to him. “Did you see him? What were you shooting at?” Ricky just keeps looking down at the body blocking the view of William Wallace. W2 forcibly looks around Ricky to see what he is staring at.

“What the hell?”

Ricky throws up. “What the hell happened to him?” W2 gets closer to observe the body better.“Is he still alive?”

“I-I don’t think so. He fell out of the sky,” Ricky responds. “Fell out of the sky? What do you mean fell out of the sky!?”

“I heard something coming at me, so I started shootin’; then he fell out of the sky.”

The body’s head begins to move, which makes both of them jump back simultaneously. They look at the body and see each one of the bone arrows being sucked out of the body and back into the fog. Both of
the men turn and run with reckless abandon next to each other, tripping over stones and sliding across the mud and moss patches on the ground. After they both finally come to a stop, Ricky turns and yells, “Jerry!”

“What the hell are you doing? You trying to let whatever
hocus pocus we’re running from find us? I’m sure Jerry is fine; he’s a grown man who can take care of himself. What WE need to do is keep quiet, head back to town, and tell the sheriff what’s going on.”

Ricky gives him a look of agreement, and they continue to move on back towards town. A bone-shattering scream is heard maybe fifty yards away from the men. They both run at the sound of the shriek to see who it is that’s screaming and possibly stop who or whatever is attacking them.

As they run through the fog and trees, an opening appears as the fog dissipates. They shine a flashlight across the ground and see a rifle lying on the ground with blood splattered across it.

“
Who’s gun is that?” Ricky asks.

“I don’t know.
Might be one of Jerry’s boys. Jerry’s got a handgun, I know that for sure.”

“There’s no sign of either one of ’
em.”

They hear something running from across the fog opening. They both prepare their guns and flashlights, ready to shoot in the general direction of the sound.

“Ricky? Wallace?” they hear Jerry’s whispered shout.

“Jerry, Jerry, over here,” W2 screams.

“What’s going on?” Jerry asks.

“There’s somebody’s gun with blood on it. You know who it belongs to?”

“Yeah, that’s Trent’s gun. Where is he?” he asks as he looks up. Jerry’s face looks as if he has seen a ghost. Paralyzed, all he can mutter is, “Oh.”

The others look up behind them and see Jerry’s flashlight shimmering on a mangled body ten feet up, stuck in a tree. Ricky bends over, trying to throw up, but nothing comes out of him.

“Damn it!” W2 shouts. The entrails are spread out to spell out something across the body.

“What does it
say?”Jerry asks.

“S-T-O-N-E.
Stone?” W2 answers with a question.

“Stone?
You mean to tell me that guy we were chasing did this?” Ricky asks still hunched over with both hands on his knees.

“He’s probably watching us right now,” W2 adds.

“You want the stone, huh? Well, you gotta come through me first!” Jerry yells into the forest, pumping his beretta in the air like a picket sign.

Out of nowhere, an arrow shoots from the edge of the fog and knocks the gun out from Jerry’s hand. Before he can react, another arrow pierces Jerry’s good hand in the exact same spot Carver stabbed him in the diner.
“Ughhh!” Jerry screams in agony, clutching his wrist.