Tales of Chills and Thrills: The Mystery Thriller Horror Box Set (7 Mystery Thriller Horror Novels) (36 page)

Using the reversion as his tool, Deva snatched
those in need of salvation and dropped them into a dying world to find the path
to redemption and release from the cycle: Should the soul fail to make a
lifetime of wrongs right, it would reawaken in another place, in another reversion.
Spirit demands a resolution for all souls and Deva orchestrates it. Deva, the
gatekeeper of the reversion, spent eons keeping the great cycle intact and
would do so for as long as Spirit required it.

***

The night came silently, stealing the
remaining light from the forest and replacing it with an insufferable coldness.
Samuel shuddered. He could no longer control the muscle spasms that racked his
body and occupied his mind. The yellow tape, the shoes, the hunger. None if it
mattered while his brain searched for a solution to the numbing cold brought by
the night.

After walking for hours in no particular
direction, he again relied on instinct, gathering branches and leaning them
against a tree to provide the most basic shelter. With twigs and dried leaves,
he created a mound of kindling. He stood and yawned before looking out into the
expansive forest. He had no measure of his progress and thought it was possible
he hiked in a long, meandering circle.

Samuel reached into his pocket, where he
had stowed the mysterious artifacts. His hand found the lighter, which he
pulled out. Again he wrapped his thumb and finger around the igniter, although
the dropping temperature made it more difficult for him to strike the flint. He
tried again, once, twice. On the third strike, the lighter coughed forth a weak
flame. It flickered over the pinhole at the top of the metal. Samuel felt the
brief burst of warmth and, before he could place his left hand over the top,
the flame died. He shook the lighter and struck the flint again. The green flame
returned, and Samuel pushed the tiny lever on the front of the lighter until
the flame rose slightly higher than before. He smiled and reached back into his
pocket, removing scraps of paper from the wallet and holding them over the
flame. At first, the paper did nothing but curl and twist from the heat. But
after a few moments, the flame leapt from the lighter. He dropped the lit paper
on to the mound of leaves. Curls of grey smoke floated upward, stinging his
eyes and burning his nose, and Samuel cried from the smoke. He could smell it.
He was alive.

Within moments, the confined space
between three pine trees blazed with yellow and green flames. Samuel was
standing closer to the bonfire than he should, staring at the odd colors. His
instinct told him to stand back, and yet the heat did not burn him. He shoved
the lighter into his pocket and scurried past the fire, gathering pine needles,
dried twigs and branches. He knew this fuel was needed to keep the fire going,
to keep him alive. In a matter of moments, units of time Samuel could no longer
measure, he sat basking in the glow of a roaring bonfire. He felt its warmth
and closed his eyes. His stomach growled, protesting the hunger brought on by
the activity.

Samuel laid his head on the empty
backpack and curled his feet closer to the fire. He felt warm and safe
and still alone, until the howl pierced the air.

His mind reeled as instinct took over. He
stripped his clothes to the ground to rid himself of his human scent. He could
not remember how he knew, but he recognized the howl of the alpha male. He knew
the pack was coming. He knew if he did not hide from their sight and sense of
smell, he would die.

The cold air bit into his back as the
paltry fire warmed his front. He took inventory of the clothing he stuffed into
his backpack, counting three shirts of various sizes, two pairs of shorts and
one pair of athletic pants. He ran to the pile and put the athletic pants on,
followed by a pair of shorts. He picked up the T-shirt he had worn and took a
whiff. He could smell his own body odor, but it did not carry the musky,
organic, overpowering scent it normally would have, but he didn’t have time to
figure out why. The air felt heavy and diluted and Samuel wondered if there was
something wrong with his senses or if it was this place. Nevertheless, it was
closest to his body’s scent and would have to do. He hoped to confuse the alpha
male long enough to escape. He set the undershirt aside and pulled the
clothing over his head until he stood dressed, with only a pair of
shorts and a T-shirt left on the ground. Samuel felt his movement restricted in
several layers of clothing worn by other people and realized if the alpha male
was not disoriented by the mixing of scents, he would be easy prey.

He ran to one of the pine trees standing
guard over his haven, unable to find a single knotted branch or knob that would
serve him. He knew the clearing would soon be attacked by a pack of wild
wolves, and he ran from one tree to another until he found what he needed,
grabbing the stained T-shirt and wrapping the neck-hole around a thin branch
while using another twig to create a crude cross on which the T-shirt rested,
mimicking a human with arms outstretched. He then snatched the shorts from the
ground and wrapped them over a piece of peeling bark so they hung beneath the
T-shirt. The clothes on the tree sat higher than an average human, but he did
not think the wolves would discern that detail in the heat of the hunt.

Samuel heard the soft crunch of the
forest underbrush. He looked back and forth at the trees and over the fire,
spotting one low-hanging branch within his grasp. His fingers fell a few inches
short of the bark, and when he heard the low, earthy growls, he realized he had
seconds to make a decision. Samuel jumped and grabbed the branch with both
hands while swinging his legs as high as he could. Several objects fell from
his pockets and clattered in a pile beneath the tree. As he glanced down,
Samuel saw the first set of yellow eyes materialize from the dark recesses
beyond the fire. He squinted and heaved upward until he sat on the branch with
his feet dangling five feet from the ground. The alpha male came first.

***

It smelled the burning wood long before
its eyes found the origin of the flame. The creature nuzzled its nose deep into
dank fur and flicked its ears twice before turning its muzzle toward the sky,
letting loose with a growl that sounded more human than beast. Within moments,
the rest of the pack surrounded the alpha male. Sets of yellow eyes darted back
and forth through the hulking, black trunks. They seemed to disappear and
reappear as though floating through the night.

One has found flame.

The pack settled and circled around the
leader. With his fur rankled, he bared his pointy teeth at the slightly
younger, more aggressive males.

My kill, then your carcass.

Although not the egalitarian split most
of the creatures desired, it was the way.

The alpha male trotted across a felled
tree, the trunk resting on a rocky outcrop jutting twenty feet high. He
approached the zenith and stopped, catching the scent of fire, smoke and
humans. While he did not share the same sense of time and space as other
mammals, the wolf registered surprise. He had not expected man to still be
here, and if he was, he had not expected man to enter his domain.

Blood.

The rest of the pack reared up behind the
leader, letting loose with several rounds of howling, barking and
gnashing. Several of the larger, older creatures snapped at the females. The
leader called for blood. The hunt was on.

The alpha male leapt from the trunk, his
sinewy frame propelled through the trees as if by an otherworldly force. The
creature sprinted, and the pack followed at the respected distance. The alpha
male would not find a challenger this night—the first blood would belong to him
.
The pack undulated, a brown, grey and silver mass weaving through
the trees and toward the fire springing up from the forest floor. Some of the
cubs whimpered and ran beneath their mothers, for they had yet to witness the
power of flame.

The alpha male crested a slight rise and
slowed his descent toward the valley, scanning the horizon to see the thin,
white line of Brother Moon. The creature stopped, his tongue flicking across
his frozen muzzle. He lifted his head up and howled again.

The top arch of the moon poked above the
tree line, but would rise no farther. The alpha male knew. He mourned the loss
of the sky god hanging over the valley and illuminating the kills. Brother Moon
held his gaze low like an insolent child, a bit lower each cycle.

The pack scampered behind the alpha male
and waited. The creatures paced about with deep growls as they too gazed at the
fire in the center of the valley, cursing the unnatural flame and drooling at the
prospect of tearing its creator apart.

The alpha male dropped low, ears up. He
moved methodically through the trees until the faint aroma of burning pine
reached his nose. They had not lost the scent. Not yet. The others followed
with growling bellies and cautious optimism. The feast would be the first in a
long while. Mothers would push their cubs back from the killing spot and toss
them the battered entrails left after the surge.

The alpha male continued to lead. The
crackling of the burning wood became louder but muffled in the heavy
air. He listened for the guttural tone of a human voice, but did not hear it,
and he sniffed the air again, this time detecting the source of the scent.

More than one?

The younger, more aggressive males became
excited by the thought of full bellies. The wolves nudged each other, even
going so far as to bare teeth to preserve the attack order. After the alpha
male had eaten, a battle would ensue for the bloody remains.

The alpha male spun with his hackles
raised. He growled and bared pointy, yellow teeth at his pack. They would fear
him or be consumed by him. At least that was how it had always been. The others
cowered, especially the females and the cubs. A few of the more mature males
skittered to the side but did not retreat. They sized up the alpha male,
sensing they too might someday lead the pack. Someday.

Now.

He reared his head and howled. The rest
of the pack imitated the alpha male until the sound consumed the dead of the
night. He raced from his lead position toward the fire, with the pack
following, dashing between trunks, through the remains of yellow tape and over
lonely shoes with decayed laces. He sprinted over forgotten bones and rotted
canvas tents. He kicked the artifacts of the world to the side, where they tumbled
into silent obscurity.

The fire grew as the alpha male led his
pack to the fight. It had been a long time since human blood was spilled in the
valley and the alpha male basked in the anticipation. Although his eyes
had lost range and focus, he was able to detect the human form against the tree
on the far side of the fire. The yellow and green flames distorted the
shape, but not enough to confuse the alpha male. The wolves snapped at
each other’s tails as they followed the leader to the kill zone. Females, cubs
and old wolves became lost in the instinctual euphoria of the kill.

He flew from the path, dashed around a
fallen limb and turned straight for his prey. The alpha male’s eyes lit,
his snout pulsing with the chemicals of the predominant human scent, no longer
uncertain of their numbers. He made one final lunge to the right of the fire
and skidded to a halt in the dry dirt at the base of the tree. His head
twitched back and forth at the shirt and shorts tacked there. He did not need
to communicate his disgust and disappointment to the pack. His belly growled in
protest of the ruse.

Chapter 2

The leader approached his prey and looked
up. The rest of the pack filled in behind the alpha male but kept their
distance from the unnatural fire. The creature paced around the flames,
sniffing the objects on the ground, and then craned its neck upward at the feet
of the human.

It must come down. That is the command
given and the one I must follow.

The rest of the pack whined and shuffled
about. Several of the cubs lay on the ground, enjoying the meager warmth
provided by the man’s fire, while the male wolves stood behind the leader and
looked up into the tree.

“Leave me alone,” Samuel shouted.

He thought he could hear the alpha male
chuckle. The sound escaped the wolf’s muzzle like a short guffaw.

“Get out of here.”

The wolves stood at attention, staring up
at him. One would break off, circle its tail, and then come back to attention
at the base of the tree.

Samuel looked up into the pine. Branches
sprouted from the trunk like a pinwheel extending up into the blackness.
Tendrils of smoke raced between them as the fire burned down to yellow coals,
releasing the hiss of water inside the damp wood. Samuel reached for the next
closest branch and climbed higher, until he sat on a wider branch, taking a
deep breath and looking down at the pack twenty feet below.