“What is it now,” asked Whatling, tired of it all.
“Shush!” Nason held up his hand for silence, moving closer to the windows and listening. "There it is again."
A clicking sound reached inside from the road.
Wind?
No.
The trees out there stood still, not a breath of wind.
The room hushed around him. The others inched toward the high windows, all looking up. They all heard it now.
Something was walking on the pavement in front of the bank.
Whatling crept to the wall and turned off the interior lights.
The others stood still, too frightened to move.
Nason wanted to look but his legs refused to move. He held his breath as Ralston climbed onto a chair and stretched up to look.
“Son-of-a . . .” Ralston gripped the window ledge and carefully climbed onto the arms of the chair, standing higher, able to see better. He whispered, “What the hell is that?”
Olen and Embry climbed onto the two remaining chairs near the windows.
Nason and Whatling quietly moved chairs under the windows and joined them.
The creature passed under the bank windows, walking sideways on all fours like a large primate. Meadowlarks swirled around it, charging at the high windows without hitting them.
“I don’t know,” whispered Whatling, no longer the officious banker. “Maybe it’s a sasquatch or something. Look at those birds. Dear God, look at the size of it.”
Ralston said, “I thought you said the dog chewed off its leg.”
Nason whispered, “I told you, I took the leg up to the Perch.”
Louder than he should, Embry said, “Maybe there’s more than one.”
It rounded the corner of the bank, not looking at them.
The birds followed.
Embry said, “That’s a sasquatch, sure enough.”
“How would you know a sasquatch from your old woman?”
“Bite my jumbo, Nason. That’s a sasquatch.”
“Walks like a baboon,” said Whatling, all of them speaking louder than they should.
Nason whispered, “Will you shut up.” He wanted to hear outside, the thing walking along the sidewalk at the side of the building, no windows there.
“No.” Olen flew off of his chair and lunged toward the back door.
They all knew where it was going.
Nason jumped down and grabbed him around the waist, pulling him back. He pushed Olen against the wall, pressing his hand tight to Olen’s mouth.
Ralston quietly cranked the wheel, locking the bank's four-bolt security lock.
Whatling quietly secured the front door and all five men stood in the dark, listening.
The creature loudly clawed and raked the concrete steps at the side of the building. It wanted them to hear.
It knows we’re here.
HELFRED PULLED ANOTHER tray of perfect sugar cookies from the oven, slightly browned on top. These had been Gus's favorite, always said he could eat them for breakfast, lunch and dinner. She set them on the counter, closed and turned off the oven. She picked up an already cooled tray and raked cookies into the big cookie jar for the store.
That time Gus had been invited to stay the knight with J.J.’s brother, he’d asked could he take some sugar cookies.
“Sure,” she said out-loud, remembering.
Let me put some in a bag.
The precious image, seeing Gus in her mind, brought tears to her eyes. She quickly swept them away. Under her breath, she said, “Getting close to Christmas.” Gus had always eaten too much around Christmas time. She raked the last tray of cookies into the jar and put the cookie sheets into the dishwasher.
She looked out the window at the moonlit snow, the ice cycles hanging from her roof and nearby trees, the small, nearly frozen stream that tumbled from the rocks behind their house, so lovely.
Curious.
Birds fluttered into the trees, breaking off ice cycles. The ice cycles stabbed into snow and sank from sight.
Her mood sank with them, a deep and dark place in her memory. She hated these memories. “What a terrible night that was.”
She blotted those images out for the thousandth time. She needed to remember the good times, especially so close to Christmas.
Her heart ached with the loss of her son, no stopping it.
The night he’d been born had been a good night, by golly. The store and loft apartment had just been completed by Olen and Willis. She'd loved the loft then. She could no long climb up there. She crossed her arms, holding her baby boy in her memory.
Those birds outside startled her, rushing at her kitchen window, flapping their wings into it, thumping into the glass with their yellow breasts, pecking and clawing like they were trying to get at her. She backed away and her dark mood surrounded her, thinking of Willis, thinking of that wonderful day, that awful night.
She turned and looked down the hallway toward the front door, a noise out there. “Olen?” She walked halfway down the hall and stopped, perking her ear toward the door.
She stepped back when glass shattered and fell onto the tile floor out in the vestibule. It sounded like a tree, heavy with snow, had fallen into it.
“What?” Something out there breathed noisily. She gripped her breast against her pain and fear.
Out in the vestibule, glass crunched against tile. Something heavy had stepped inside.
Helfred froze Her heart loudly thumped against her inner ear.
Stillness pressed around her as their entry door quietly splintered inward, no sound but for the beating of her heart. Pieces of shattered wood slowly floated toward her and there it stood.
Something big and dark filled their entry, standing on four legs. It slowly stood to full height on hind legs and looked down at her.
Those eyes. I know. . . “Gustov, is that you?”
Chapter Fifteen
At 9:37am the following morning, Sheriff Phil Nason drove down River Road toward the Potter Ranch, thinking what to say, how to handle this woman, this new matriarch of their isolated community.
What a mess.
He’d been two nights without sleep and his brain felt like mud soup, aimless thoughts bumping into each other, planning mechanisms out of focus.
She needs to understand.
Phil needed to make that happen.
The night before,
