But every time she turned around, there was nothing but a warm breeze and the occasional tumbleweed rolling through town to disrupt the silence.
One more try and we’ll turn in, she promised herself.
She approached a lone man leaning against the wall of an empty alley, smoking. And though her instincts knew better, she had her phone, her recorder, and mace on her at all times.
Good things don’t come to those who wait, her mom had always said.
“Good evening, sir,” she said, introducing herself briefly. “Do you have time to answer a few questions?”
The man, probably in his late thirties, had a beat-up hat, ragged brown beard, and dirty clothes. The instant she spoke, he sneered down at her, even as his eyes leered over Mel’s body in a creepy way that made goose bumps form on her forearms.
“Ugh,” he said, though he didn’t take his gaze off of hers.
“I’m doing a story on the strange occurrences going on here in Parson’s Creek. And I was wondering if—”
Suddenly, she felt someone behind her, so close they were almost breathing down her neck.
“I’ll give ya a story,” a male voice slurred.
She whirled around to see three men, all who looked somewhat like the first man, standing in front of her. They looked like cowboys but definitely not the gentlemanly kind, based on their creepy grins and general lack of any hygiene whatsoever.
“I—” She stuttered, trying to keep her cool. “I appreciate that.”
With the sound of heavy boots, the man behind her kicked off the wall and joined what she supposed were his friends, the four of them cornering her into the alley.
Nothing to worry about.
They just wanted an interview, right?
The man in front stepped forward, forcing Mel to take a step back, and she could see the predatory gleams on their faces. A quick glance over her shoulder confirmed her worst fears. There was no outlet, and the alley was even shallower than she’d thought, maybe only ten or so feet, bricked off by the adjoining buildings.
Only a single dim light bulb cast any sort of light into the dark corners surrounding her on every side. She could barely make out the men’s forms as they caged her in, leaving only the light above her as they surrounded her from the shadows with evil gazes.
Crap, crap and double crap.
“You hear the story about the city slicker that had the night of her life in Parson’s Creek?” the leader asked his companions.
“I love this story,” said a friend at his side, licking his lips in a way that made even leeches seem like friendly creatures.
“Yeah. They say the uppity bitch had it coming. That she screamed all night, but nobody ever found her.”
A hand brushed across her shoulder from somewhere, and she whipped around, palming the pepper spray in her pocket. The men were circling like wolves, and she knew it was only a matter of time before they pounced.
She’d spray them and run for the street. That was her only option.
“What’s wrong? Aren’t you going to interview me?” the man asked.
But Mel was already counting down in her head, every nerve in her body on edge.
Three… two…
But before she could pull the small canister out of her pocket, there was yelp behind her.
Not a yelp. More like a muffled scream.
She turned around, not sure what or who had made the noise.
And around her, the men had stopped moving.
How were there only three all of a sudden?
Her eyes were still having trouble adjusting to the darkness, though, and the blinking light above her didn’t help. Her hand tensed again, ready to go…
Then the shadow in front of her, the man she’d first approached who’d been smoking at the alley, suddenly was pulled away from the halo of light surrounding her. She could swear she saw movement from behind him, something in the darkness. But only the light scuffling of heaven knew what scraping across the ground remained as any evidence that the guy had been there a moment ago.
The other two, aware of what Mel was now aware of, were wildly turning around, fists raised, attention no longer on her.
What in the actual freak was happening?
“Who’s there? Show yourself, bastard!” The man standing next to the leader screamed into the silence, eyes wild as they caught flecks of the lamppost’s light.
Mel’s vision was starting to adjust, though. And to her utter horror, she saw an arm reach down from above them as if coming from the rooftop of the shops they were sandwiched between. In a motion so swift it was like watching helicopter blades move, the hand grasped the man by the neck, and he was lifted up and away like something from a horror movie.
Only a muffled yelp, followed by something that sounded like a dull thud, punctuated the eerie, absolutely terrifying darkness.
“What the fuck do you want? Come out and fight me like a man!” The leader’s gaze was wild, and he swung at nothing but dancing shadows as Mel backed away, trying to make sense of what was happening.
There was a pause, and for a second, the silence was so pervasive it was deafening. Not a sound. Not a noise. Not even a cricket.
Then a fist appeared from the inky blackness next to the evil man, and a thunderous CRACK shattered the quiet like a gunshot.
The man’s head flew to the side as droplets of something splattered onto the ground, and he fell flat onto his back. Then, from the edges of the light, she saw a big hand grab the unconscious man by the boot, and he was dragged away into the darkness by a huge shadow that loomed like some feral beast making away with its prey.
Her heart stopped as the shapeless form reached the end of the alley.
But instead of some creature, she saw a man. Huge by normal standards, broad in the shoulders and well over six feet. And for a moment, she could make out a dark Stetson on the man’s head, even as
