The Mountain King (21 page)

Chapter Thirty-two
 

Three Down 

“Holy
shit!
The light hurts like a
bitch!”
Phil said, blinking his eyes rapidly. 

Mark grunted as he eased Phil down onto the ledge outside the cave mouth. The sky was overcast—a dull gray ripple of high clouds. 

“What do you expect, after being in total darkness for nearly a week?” Mark said softly. 

He glanced up at the overcast sky and guessed it was a little after noon. They had less than six hours of daylight to get down off the mountain. He was positive they wouldn’t make it back to town before dark, but he decided not to tell Phil just how bad things looked. 

Taking the rifle from his friend, he walked over to the edge of the cliff and looked down. More than eighty feet below, he could see the bright dots of color that were Phil’s torn jacket and backpack. He carefully scanned the area but couldn’t see any sign of the creatures. The body of the one he had killed had been removed. He knew from all too painful experience, though, how easily these things could hide themselves among the rocks—and how fast they could move to attack. He clicked the safety off his rifle and started pacing back and forth along the ledge like a soldier on guard duty as he considered the easiest way to get Phil down to the base of the cliff. 

Once his eyes had adjusted to the brightness, Phil, wincing with the pain and effort, dragged himself over to the edge of the cliff and looked down. Whistling softly under his breath, he said, “Christ on a cross! That rope’s not gonna be enough to get us down from here, is it, bud?” 

“I shinnied up that chimney in the rock over there,” Mark said, pointing to the shallow funnel that ran up the cliff side. “I don’t suppose you could slide down that steep an incline by yourself.” 

Phil considered for a moment, then shook his head. “No way. Not without the use of my legs.” 

“I didn’t think so. Okay, then, we’ll have to do it the hard way.” 

He took the coil of vines from his shoulder and shook it out. Altogether, there were more than twenty short pieces tied together. He tossed one end over the cliff edge, but the makeshift rope didn’t even reach halfway down. 

Mark groaned his dissatisfaction, then shrugged off his jacket. Taking his Swiss Army knife from his pocket, he began to slice the nylon shell into long, thin strips. 

“C’mon! Get busy tying those together,” he said as he handed the first few strips to Phil. “These with the vines should give us enough to reach the bottom. We can at least get you most of the way down.” 

For the next several minutes, both men worked in silence as Mark cut his jacket into strips and Phil knotted them together, end to end. By the time every useful piece of Mark’s jacket had been used up and they tied one end of it to the knotted vine rope, their makeshift rope still looked as if it wouldn’t reach all the way to the ground. 

“It’s gonna have to do. Should we risk it now?” Mark asked as he pulled the rope back up and tugged at each knot to make sure none of them would slip. 

Phil nodded. “I don’t think it’d be very smart to sit here the rest of the day just waiting for those bastards to come back, now, do you?” 

“They’re probably out hunting for more victims,” Mark said. 

He shivered as the memory of what had happened to his daughter stirred in his mind, but he forced those thoughts away, choosing instead to concentrate only on getting himself and Phil to safety. He’d have plenty of time to deal with his grief later. 

Mark handed Phil his knife, then quickly looped the nylon end of the rope around his friend’s waist and tied it off securely in a sling. He dragged Phil over to the rock chimney and then, bracing his feet wide, gripped the rope and started lowering him after Phil pushed himself away from the ledge. 

The first jolt of Phil’s weight almost yanked Mark off balance, but then Phil scrambled around into the right position and braced himself against the rock with his arms and his useless legs in the narrow indentation. After that, the going was a little easier. 

While he was lowering Phil, Mark kept a wary eye out for the return of any of the creatures. If one showed up now, Phil would be in deep shit. Mark would have to drop him so he could use the rifle to fend it off. 

Rivulets of sweat dripped from Mark’s face and ran down his neck. His back and shoulder muscles were hurting so bad he wondered how he would ever find the strength to get himself down the steep incline. 

I will because I have to,
he vowed silently to himself. 

He grunted softly as he fed out the rope, knot by knot. The transition from the thin nylon to the thicker vine made his hands and arms ache all the more, but he gritted his teeth and kept feeding out the rope, inch by inch. When he reached the end of the rope, he twisted a few loops around his wrist and held on tightly. 

“That’s all I’ve got!” he called down to Phil. His voice echoed from the rocks below. “How much further have you got to go?” 

The vine was slippery in his hands, and he knew he wasn’t going to be able to hold on much longer. 

“Not far,” Phil answered, his voice sounding faint and thin. “Can’t be more than ten or fifteen feet.” 

“Can I let you drop?” 

“Just a second—Yeah, okay. I think I’m—” 

The tension on the rope suddenly released. 

With a startled cry, Mark rushed to the edge of the cliff and looked down. He expected to see Phil lying crushed and broken at the base of the cliff—or else being torn to shreds by one of the creatures, so he laughed out loud when he realized that Phil had cut the nylon and was leaning back hard against the rock, bracing himself with his arms. Phil’s face was bright red from the effort, but—unbelievably—he was able to control the rest of his descent. 

As soon as Phil was safely on the ground, Mark slung his rifle over his shoulder, crawled out over the edge, braced himself against the rock, and started down in a fast, barely controlled slide. It was a lot easier with gravity working with him, and before long he was standing next to his friend, brushing himself off. Both men were panting heavily from the exertion as Phil wiggled his way free of the nylon rope. 

“That was the hardest part, right?” Phil said, smiling grimly. 

“Yeah . .. right,” Mark replied just as grimly. 

He wasted no time in getting Phil up onto his back again and starting down the slope. They had several miles to cover, and by the looks of the sky, the weather was going to get nasty before long. The only consolation was that, if it started raining, it might hamper their pursuers as much as it hampered them. 

The descent from the mountaintop was arduous— a nightmare of physical endurance. Under normal conditions, the hike down to the tree line would take no more than an hour, but it consumed better than three hours because Mark had to stop so frequently to rest. Almost every step of the way, he regretted leaving his canteen behind with Jack as thirst and fatigue rose to nearly unbearable levels. 

The Wheaton Trail was the shortest trail off the mountain, but it was also the steepest, so Mark decided to stick with the longer Round Top Trail, which crossed the west branch of Sawyer River a little more than halfway to the trail head. They could get fresh water at the river, but he also chose this route because it was in the same general direction as his base camp. What with both a police search party and the creatures after him, he doubted that his camp had remained undetected, but he hoped there would still be some ammunition and possibly some food still there. 

It was late afternoon by the time they reached the tree line. Every muscle in Mark’s body was crying for relief as he eased Phil onto the ground. It was a relief to have soft, springy soil beneath his feet instead of the hard, unyielding stone. Mark stood up straight, rotated his shoulders, and knuckled the small of his back, but that didn’t come close to relieving the bone-deep pain. 

“Sure am thirsty,” he said, licking his dried lips as he stared down the trail into the cool, green forest. He had been expecting the creatures to attack before now, while they were still high up on the rocks, exposed and defenseless. Now that they were down into the trees, he was discouraged by the prospect of carrying Phil down a steep trail that was hemmed in on both sides by dense brush. The creatures could easily wait in ambush for them and attack before either one of them could blink an eye. If these creatures were intelligent, they no doubt would hunt him in unison. Mark started wondering if maybe he should have waited up above the tree line and tried to finish them off up there before starting down. Then again, maybe the remaining creatures were too smart to be lured into a trap like that. 

“Make sure you keep that rifle cocked and ready,” Mark said once he was rested and was helping Phil climb up onto his back again. 

They were about to start moving when a shifting of motion up on the mountain drew their attention. Standing up straight, its body darkly outlined against the gray sky, was a large, man-shaped creature. It was looking down the slope, straight at them. 

For a frozen instant, Mark recalled the first time he had seen one of these things, shambling out of the blowing snow over to where Phil lay unconscious at the bottom of The Zipper. That terrible day now seemed like a lifetime away. Cold tension gripped his stomach as he watched the creature lean its head back and shake its fists wildly as though punching the sky as it bellowed its rage. The sound the creature made was lost in the distance, but as the men watched, the creature jumped down from the rock and disappeared. 

“One of them’s after us,” Mark said as he lowered Phil to the ground again and took his rifle from him. He quickly scanned the area, looking for the best place to make a stand if the creature was heading down to attack them. Off to one side of the trail was a large boulder. Mark quickly carried Phil over to it, then crouched in front of the rock with his rifle at the ready. 

The silence surrounding them was deep and unbroken except for the high whistling of the wind in the trees overhead and the distant sound of birds down in the valley. Coiled tension was a palpable presence in the air as Mark waited silently, straining to detect the slightest indication of the creature’s approach. The soft forest floor would mask all but the loudest sounds, so Mark kept glancing around as the seconds slowly ticked off. 

“Think it might’ve gone to find the others first?” Phil whispered. 

“I have no idea,” Mark said, shaking his head but not stopping his scan of the area. His pulse was beating such a high, fast rhythm in his ears it made it difficult for him to concentrate. The lack of sunlight cast the entire mountainside in a shadowless, dimensionless gray pall. 

“Maybe we should just keep going,” Phil said, sounding more agitated. “The further we get into the deep woods, the better off we’ll be, don’t you think? They won’t follow us all the way down, will they?” 

“Oh, they’ll follow us all right,” Mark replied, grinning tightly. “They can’t let us get away, and they’re certainly smart enough to know that. I suspect they’ll follow us right into town if they have to.” 

“What makes you think—” 

Before Phil could finish his question, a piercing howl shattered the silence. 

“God damn!” Mark shouted as he jumped to his feet, spun around, and raised his rifle. 

Two of the creatures attacked in unison. 

They were nothing more than swift blurs of brown motion as they leapt off the rock behind the two men. Mark managed to fire a single shot. The bullet tore through one creature’s chest, killing it instantly. Mark tried to dodge to one side, but the creature landed on his back. The impact knocked the rifle from his hand as hot, stifling darkness enfolded him, suffocating him as the creature’s heavy carcass pressed him face-first into the humus of the forest floor. 

Mark’s mind went blank with terror. He expected to be torn to pieces at any instant as he struggled to get out from underneath the burden of the beast. Then, with a deafening roar, the other beast pulled aside the body of its companion and grabbed Mark. The creature enfolded him in a tight, deadly embrace that pinned his arms to his sides and squeezed the air from his lungs. Bright, white lights exploded across his vision as the unrelenting pressure crushed him. 

Time lost all meaning in a flood of panic and pain. 

He knew he was going to die.