We rode out just as the sun peaked above the horizon. Scarfed down eggs and biscuits, followed by coffee as the first few rays of light began to show through the window. We said goodbye to our ma and pa and then we left. My older brother Bud and I are leaving our home in the beautiful foothills of Tennessee for the famed women, whiskey, and gold of the West. Weâre riding north to Missouri and then to pick up the trail heading out to Santa Fe.
âHey bud, slow up there. I donât want to tire alreadyâ I call.
âWell then donât tire. We got a few hours until lunch, then we can stop and give the horses a rest, and then go on. That oughta set a good pace.â
âI hope so. I donât wanna be stuck going across the plains during summer.â
âRelax. It’s still April. Hell, thereâs still snow up on Rocky Top.â
We camp in the evening in a small clearing near a stream. We let the horses water and graze while we start a fire and eat our first dinner on the trail. The birds sing us a relaxing serenade as the sun sets and light begins to fade.
âThat wasnât too bad, Budâ I say.
âThat was only the first day. Weâre still excited. Give it two weeks and weâre not gonna want to get back in the saddle.â
âYou think?â
âYouâll see.â
âWell.â
âItâs starting to get a little chilly, huh?â
âYeah it was real nice there til the sun disappeared behind those trees.â
In the waning light, my eyes catch something just in the woodline. I turn and barely catch a glimpse of antlers retreating back into forests.
âHuhâŚmost deer should have shed by now, yeah?â I ask.
âYeah shouldâve. Why?â
âI just saw one that still had his crown. Man Iâd wanna be the soul that finds those sheds come summer.â
âYou wanna stay here and wait until they fall off?â
âNo. Iâm just saying.â
âAlright. Weâll find some more, don’t worry.â
The sun rises and we get up. Make coffee, break our fast, and set off. Lunch, nap, camp, rest. The cycle repeats and the days begin to blend together. In a couple of weeks, we find ourselves in Missouri. Luckily the weather has been in our favor, but the hills lessen and the land begins to open to us. We can see storms moving across the plains, some of which stand in our way.
The rain hits and it doesnât let up. We ride on until we eventually find a rock outcropping in which we can take shelter. Lightning shoots across the sky and thunder brings it crashing down.
âHorses donât like this.â
âBud, I donât like this.â
âHope this lets up soon. Itâs a hell of a storm. We canât get nowhere in this.â
âAin’t that the truth.â
âAt least we got this. Small as it is, it’s some shelter. At least from the wind.â
âI’m gonna try to make a fire.â
âYou go ahead and try.â
âI shall.â
I look back towards the fading sun as the sky flashes once more and see a misshapen form lurking on the horizon. It lifts its head as if it is calling, and the thunder crashes. A cold breeze gusts, and I get a strange feeling that Iâve seen it before. But when lightning strikes again, the horizon is clear and I feel a sudden chill.
After a few days, the rain finally relents and we are able to carry on. We ride through the thick springtime mud left from the storms. The warm sun pokes through the clouds, landing on our skin and refreshing us. As we look to stop for lunch, we find an old trail just off the road and take it, leading us to the edge of a small hayfield. We dismount and give the horses some feed before we lay down to rest ourselves.
âThis is much betterâ I say.
âI was starting to forget just what sunshine looked like.â
âI hope weâre through the worst of it. I donât know if I can do that again.â
âLet’s just relax and enjoy this while we can.â
âYeah. Anyway I gotta take a leakâ I say as I stand and walk into the woods. I unbuckle my pants to do my business and hear a few raindrops on the brim of my hat. I look up in curiosity and am horrified by the sight that greets me.
âBud get over here now!â I shout. Mutilated arms, legs, and a headless torso hang upside down from the branches above me. Rain water drips pale red from the exposed intestines. The chest cavity is strewn apart, ribs ripped open and the lungs gone.
âI didnât even see the blood on the ground I donât understand how I missed that I donât know how I didnât see this how I could just Iâ I stammer.
âHey hey calm down. Itâs okay. Weâre fine. Weâre alright. Look. It just rained. It probably all washed away. Whoever this was has been dead for sometime. A long time likelyâ
âWho would do this?! Why would they do this?!â
âI donât think it was an animal. Some nut is my best guess. Local gang marking territory maybe?â
âWe found it by accident.â
âWell for fun then. I donât know. If you want to play investigator, be my guest but we should get out of here.â
âWhat if the people that ââ
âWeâll be fine. Letâs just go.â
We put that field far behind us and ride into the night to make it to the next town, and do the same the following day. After warm baths and two beds, when we set off the next morning, the riding starts to put us at ease. The rhythmic walking of the horses. The wind brushing through the swaying grass. Deer and buffalo lumbering across the prairie, paying us no mind. A scarlet sunset replaced by a starry night that melts into the dull light of another sleepy town. Another full belly and a restful sleep. We soon arrive and make a stop at the Armyâs Fort Riley for supplies before we continue on.
âI thought they said Kansas was flat.â
âGive it a few days, bud, and youâll be missing the hills. It will all be flat and there wonât be nowhere to hide.â
âFrom the wind?â
The night before we depart the army post, we make a stop at the local watering hole for a good night.
âYou boys donât look localâ the bartender states as he pours our liquor.
âWeâre just passing through on our way out westâ replies Bud.
âI see. Well. Have one on the house.â
âWhy thank you sir. Have one yourselfâ I say as I pass a dollar across the bar.
âNow thank you.â
He leans in and lowers his voice, whispering
âLemme give you boys some warning. Stick to the roads and be wary of strangers. Theyâre only rumors, but thereâs talk of camps attacked and destroyed in the night. And even cannibalism.â
âCannibalism?â repeats Bud.
âThatâs the word. Could just be Indians. Could just be gangs. and the dead picked apart by animals. But the way the wind blows across the prairieâŚsometimes it shrieks. Itâs just strange.â
âWell. Weâll be okay. We can handle ourselves alright.â
âOf course. Just spreading the word. You be careful now.â
âAlways. One more round please.â
We throw back our last shots and head back to our rented room. We settle into bed, but despite the liquor I have trouble falling asleep. The wind picked up on our walk back and now I can hear it howling across the plains, almost as a warning.
We wake up and set off with fuzzy heads heavy in the early light.
âYou put any stock in what that man said?â I ask.
âNot really. Itâs just us out here. Iâm sure they make up all kinds of ghost stories to frighten travelers into staying longer and buying more whiskey.â
âWhat about the indians? Pa fought some of them when he was young. They ainât nice. And what we found in that tree.â
âSure. Why do you think I bought this to protect ourselvesâ Bud says as he pulls out a silver revolver, the sun gleaming off the metal.
âYou sonofagun. Youâre just now telling me?!â
â I just didnât want to worry you. Or worse, say something dumb to a stranger.â
âWell. Hope we donât need it.â
âIf we do, we got it.â
We find a last hill as the land finally flattens out before us. Tall grass swaying in the breeze as far as the eye can see. In the setting sun we light a fire to warm our dinner. Coyotes begin to yip in the distance while we eat, and afterwards we crawl onto our mats to gaze out at the stars.
âI canât believe it’s so clear out here. So dark, but so peacefulâ I whisper.
âIt sure is. Quiet too.â
âI bet even the rain is relaxing.â
âYeah Iâm sure that storm we got caught in would have been relaxing alright.â
âAlright thatâs it. Goodnight.â
I begin to doze off, when Bud whispers âMan, something must have just died or the wind shifted or somethinâ. Do you smell that? I didnât catch it earlier but damn. This reeks.
âI didnât either. Gosh thatâs awful though.â
âToo late to try to move though. Weâll just have to bear it.â
âHey, was I asleep for long? I know weâre out in the open but it sure got cold.â
âItâs just the night. It wonât be this bad in the ââ
A deafening shriek rips through us, chilling us to the bone as we cover our ears. The horses tear off. In their place, a galloping sound runs up on us and stops just outside the light of our fire. We scramble out of our blankets and huddle together, panicking, eyes searching, gasping, shaking.
âLookâ Bud whispers and points âI seeâŚeyes?â
A faint pair of red coals float out in the darkness, belonging to a shape that begins to stomp at the ground, treading, threatening, taunting. As it dances around the edge of light, I begin to make out a familiar pair of antlers, and a thought strikes me hard.
Budâs hand begins to raise, taking aim with the pistol as it glints in the firelight.
âShow yourself. Câmon. Come get someâ he challenges, and spits.
The shape snorts, and turns, and trots away. We let out a collective sigh, which is overridden by a scream that pierces the prairie night.
We donât sleep. As soon as light breaks the prairie, we gather our things. We find the horses a mile from camp, and mount up.
âWe need to make it the next townâ Bud demands.
âThe next town? Thatâs almost thirty miles away!â
âWe donât have a choice. Whatever that thing was. I donât know if it will be stopped another night. It must have only been toying with us. Itâll come back.â
âBud, that creature, I think itâs been stalking us since we left home.â
âHave you lost your mind?â
âHear me out. Last night. Bud, it has antlers andâŚâ
âYou think that we got a man-eating deer following us from home. Alright that’s nice. Now I know you lost your mind. Hell, we ainât even been on the plains two days.â
âListen to me. That first night. I saw that buck duck back into the woods. I didnât think much of it. But we felt that cold breeze.. And then when we got caught in that thunderstorm, I saw it again and got the same chill. And then last night it got real cold before it came.â
He pulls his horse to a halt, and stares at me, and then the ground.
âYouâre right. I remember that now. It has been following, hasn’t it. And the wind…itâs chasing after us.
We almost make it. Almost. We can see pillars of smoke rising on the horizon to the west, beckoning to us. But before we reach safety, we come to a river, swollen from the rains of that terrible storm.
âNoâŚnoâŚno.â
âWe canât cross here. The horses will never make it across.â
âThereâs got to be a better place. Either up or down river.â
âAnd what, we split up to find it? Weâll both be in pieces before sun up.â
âLetâs find a bend in the river. We wonât be able to cross. But it probably canât either. There’ll be fewer sides we have to defend.â
âAlright. Here, I think I see one upstream. Follow me.â
We reach one in the dying light, dismounting and ditching our horses, as a cold wind begins to pick up. We gather some drift wood and try to set a fire, but each attempt is snuffed out. Finally we give up, and settle on the other side of a washed-up log, our backs to the dark, muddy water. With the sun down, the moon offers the only light, casting faint shadows.
âI guess this is where we make our stand.â
âYou loaded?â
âAlways.â
âYou ready?â
âWell.â
The unmistakable stench of decay begins to waft in, and we know itâs time. A pair of red eyes appears out of the dark. Its feet pound against the dirt. Its breath hisses, savagely. It stomps closer and closer until we can make out its true form. Antlers on top, the same ones that Iâve seen, that connect to a fleshless skull. Fiery coals in its hollowed out eyes and fangs bared. The neck down is that of an emaciated human, twice the size, but with rotten skin and jagged bones. Crawling around on all fours, ready to pounce, ready to kill.
It closes in, approaching our hiding place, hissing, drooling, savoring the ending of its long hunt.
My brother looks at me, nods and then cocks the pistol, pulls back the hammer, taking aim.
It grabs the log.
The cylinder rotates.
The wood is thrust aside.
The hammer slams.
Nothing.
It grabs him. Grabs his head. Screams. Squeezes.
My heart sinks.
A flash of red.
The sickly sound of raw meat hits the ground as his headless body falls.
It lets out a victory cry and I jump, falling back. I land in the water with a loud splash and its eyes fixate on me. The cold river shoots needles into my body, but I force myself deeper, hoping I can maybe make it to the other side. The undertow pulls me beneath the water, but also downstream. I begin to feel the bottom as my breath begins to run out, but then I realize it’s beginning to shallow. I push myself and finally find myself crawling out onto the river bank, gasping for air. I look back across the water and around, listening. Wind out on the prairie. The rushing water behind me. My clothes dripping onto the dirt and stone. Nothing more.
I let out a sigh and begin to sob.
âBudâŚbudâŚweâŚIâŚIâm so sorry.â
I weep.
I begin to collect myself when a cold, foul draft causes me to look up. My own brown eyes meet red ones as a skeletal hand reaches for my face. I try to scream but the bony palm muffles the sound.
Another victory cry.
Another squeeze.
Pain.
Eyes pop.
Bone cracks.
The night explodes.
Credit: Dan Courier
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