“Here,” Matt said, his glowing eyes fixing directly on Scott.
He tossed the skull through the night, the darkened shape disappearing into shadows in midair before finally appearing right in front of him. Scott caught it against his chest, the damp, red fluid leeching into the fabric of his sweatshirt. He could feel the cold wetness of the rapidly drying skull on the skin of his palms. Holding it out on front of him, he could see clumps of blood stained hair matted to the barren skull, the seams in the plates of the bulbous head looking like sutures. As he watched it, the lower jaw cracked audibly as it lowered, the jaggedly broken teeth parting.
“It’s time,” a deep, hollow voice echoed from within the mass of bone in his hands.
Startled, he dropped the skull to the ground as though it had been a poisonous snake poised to strike at him. He eyes followed it to the ground where it sunk straight into the deep snow, only the reddened cap of the head visible atop the piled white powder.
Snapping his head up almost immediately, he looked back to where Matt had been standing, but he was already gone. There was nothing there but the rows of tree trunks, and the darkness trapped beneath the low- lying canopy of branches.
“Where did he go?” Harry asked from his right, where he was staring slack jawed towards the line of trees as well.
“I don’t know.”
“Figure that was Shane?”
Harry nodded towards the reddened lump that barely peeked up at them from the snow.
“That would be a safe bet.”
“Who do you think is next?” Harry asked as he tramped through the snow towards Scott, easing him by the shoulder away from the skull.
“I’m all out of old buddies,” Scott said, walking of his own volition through the maze of trunks, glancing down at the snow- covered ground only long enough to note what he already expected: there wasn’t a single track in the unbroken field of white.
“That certainly limits the options.”
“And then some.”
“So, the way I see it, there’s really only one thing left to do.”
“What’s that?” Scott asked.
Harry stopped, gripping Scott tightly by the shoulders and turning him so that he could look him directly in the eye.
“We have to go on the offensive.”
Scott just nodded.
“We have to track him down and kill him.”
“But he’s already dead.”
“Then let’s kill him again.”
“Do you think that will work?”
“Do you have a better idea?”
Scoot looked down towards his feet, which were buried beneath the snow, noting that he couldn’t feel his toes at all. Like the rest of him, his body, his mind, he had become desensitized. All that he could feel was fear, which his mind shoved back into the darkened recesses of his brain as soon as it swelled up. There was nothing left after that. He had been reduced to a basic biological state. All that he could do was just the bare minimum necessary to survive, his instincts telling him to eat, drink and sleep. Any other less primal urges were stuffed back as anything of a more emotional base would always lead him back to the fear.
But there was something else deep down within him now, something that he hadn’t felt within before. It was like a fire, or at least the smoking kindling of what would become a fire. He could feel it welling deep in his chest, gaining strength as it fought to come to the forefront. It was the feeling that caused his teeth to grind, his eyes to narrow, and his breathing to slow.
It was rage. And with that emotion came the fire and determination with which he attacked every challenge. The fear and helplessness slipped from his consciousness as this new, powerful drive fought to the forefront.
Scott looked back up from the ground, his eyes locking straight on Harry’s. The kindling had been fanned to a full- fledged fire, which burned from behind his eyes, his trembling limbs suddenly gaining a newfound strength and stability.
With a nod of his stone chiseled, clenched jaw, his unblinking eyes turned back towards the night as they headed back towards the car, the shadows writhing in the blackness all around them in the lifeless forest.
XVII
Wednesday, November 16th
6 a.m.
“Excuse me,” Scott said, flagging down the man in the navy blue vest who walked down the aisle with a wrapped sandwich and a two liter bottle of Pepsi cradled against his chest.
“I’m on break,” the man said, nodding towards his food. “Try over there in electronics.”
With a pained grimace, Scott thanked him with a curt nod and headed towards the electronics section where he could hear the rustling of boxes from behind the stocked shelves along the wall that separated the section from the rest of the store.
Rounding the wall of jewelry boxes, he passed a long wall of nothing but film before coming to the entrance to the section. The cash register sat closed and locked down to the left of the entrance. Box filled carts littered the entranceway making it all but impossible to walk. Sliding between the closely packed metal carts, he looked over the tall stacks of boxes towards where he had heard the noise coming from. There was a tall, wild haired man with a shirt that read on the back in bright red letters: “Ski Naked.”
He was an incredibly large man. Not only did he have to be something like six foot five, but he had to be close to two hundred eighty pounds as well. The suddenly revolting idea proposed on the back of his far too tightly fitting shirt that rode up over his hairy, bloated stomach in the front was almost cause for something to be said to the man, but Scott needed something from him. Something that it seemed that not one of the hundred other employees he had seen in the store was able to do.
“Excuse me,” he said politely, craning around the mountainous stack of boxes full of video games.
The man looked up briefly, a contemptuous look streaking his face as he rolled his eyes. He had an enormous mane of fluffy dark hair and glasses that were tinted yellow. His fleshy cheeks jiggled as he tossed the pricing gun onto the shelf. Sighing loudly, he raised his eyebrows and took a step towards Scott.
“What do you want?” he grumbled.
“I need you to open one of these cases over in sporting goods.”
“I don’t have the time now. There should be someone over there.”
“There isn’t, and everyone I’ve talked to so far has been of no help whatsoever.”
“You’re just going to have to wait.”
“I already have.”
“Then wait some more,” he said, turning back down the aisle, his shirt creeping up from his hairy, exposed crack.
Scott smiled bemusedly; licking his upper lip as a smirk brought with it a quiet chuckle.
“I’m trying to be really nice here…”
“So am I,” the man interrupted.
Scott looked at the stacked boxes that covered nearly every available inch of the glossy, white tiled floor. An idea formed as the smirk widened.
“Oops,” he said, bumping into one of the towers of boxes with his hip.
The boxes toppled to the floor, the contents of the top box spilling out from where the tape had split along the upper seal. Wrapped video games covered the floor all around his feet.
“Hey,” the man said, whirling as his face turned bright red. “You just did that on purpose.”
