THE DOGHEAD

Humid winds howled through the canyon, throwing up plumes of black dust. The particles clinked against the reinforced glass of my goggles as we trotted across the terrain. A set of specs and tightly-woven coverings were necessary when you’re hoofing it across the wastes. I was glad to be properly covered up, unlike my first hunt.

I learned quickly and came to the conclusion that I’d rather burn under the crimson rays of the Sun than spend a week tweezing shards of glass out of my face and nose again.

Jackdaw, my mentor, wrapped me up good this time. He only seemed to pull these random tips-n-tricks from his ass whenever they became necessary, like the knot he used to keep his coverings from unwinding in high winds. Didn’t matter in the long run, as I was no better with knots than a horse is playing guitar.

He’s been helping me out on every hunt since. The humor of my constant fumbling probably got old pretty quick, especially when I had to seal my respirator with the bandage-esque wrappings, which never worked out for me.

He’s been a better mentor to me than I could ever ask for. He’s also a giant knob.

Jackdaw scruffed the mane of his immaculate spotted mare as she buckled over a steep drop, mumbling soft comforts into her ear.

My mount, a charcoal black colt, tried to check on the poor girl, but I steered him straight ahead to avoid potential collateral. I could hear the muffled grunts of my colt through his own horse-sized respirator. He picked up pace, trying to reclaim the control that I had robbed from him.

He was a new horse, traded off a local cannibal tribe in exchange for a couple bodies we had discovered on our last hunt.

“Thems dangerous people, but they take kindly to anyone brave or suicidal enough to bring’em back their loved ones for a proper burial. Or for food.”

Jackdaw had said.

Not worth the trouble of hauling an extra three hundred pounds of burnt meat for a horse that didn’t listen, if you ask me. My last horse was a wizened old coot that could reach a top speed of turtle if trouble arose, so the Colt had that going for him at least. Jackdaw named his horse, but warned me of getting too attached. They don’t tend to last long in this line of work, that’s for damn sure.

As we crested over the next hill, the red Sun peeked through the last of the dust that had been impairing us. Ahead of us was a stretch of soft ground for the horses to rest, just a couple kilometers long. The walls of the canyon towered above us and I couldn’t help but feel like we were back in the Old City amongst the skyscrapers; Only twenty degrees hotter and almost no shelter from bad weather.

We stopped to rest under an overhang after a week of riding through the wastes, well protected from any canyon winds that may come our way.

Jackdaw may have a knack for knots, but when it comes to setting up camp, that’s where I excel. The tents were up in a couple minutes and I already had the fire started to cook the last of our good food.

As we finished unloading and setting up the sonic fences, the sun set, plunging us into a darkness I was all too familiar with.

As the stew simmered, I tried my hand at unwrapping my Colts coverings, but he wouldn’t keep still. He still didn’t trust me enough to touch his face.

“Could I get your help over here?”

I looked at Jackdaw with my frustration all too visible, but he was busy being enamored by the smell of the stew.

“Nope.”

He was already uncovered, wafting the steam into his pocked face with a big dumb grin that irked me even more.I scoffed and gave up, joining him by the fire and finally taking my own coverings off.

I unholstered my six-shooter and set it on a rock just outside the fire’s reach and sat down to enjoy the first hot meal we’d had in a couple of days.

Jackdaw slopped up his rations like a beast while I savored my hard work. We didn’t talk. We rarely did while on the hunt.

“Hush up now.”

I could picture Jackdaw saying in response to any form of chatter.

His signature ‘catch-phrase’. Even still, I felt compelled to break the silence.

“Are you finally going to tell me what we’re hunting?”

I said between spoonfuls of stew.

He shot me a dirty look over his bowl, but quickly conceded and set it down.

“The Doghead”.

He said, wiping the broth from his lips.

“A big ol’ beast. Keen senses, like a dog. Now hush up.”

There it is. For a second there I thought maybe he had softened up. Good to see he’s just as ‘informative’ as ever. I just nodded and went back to my stew, not wanting to poke the bear anymore than I had.

We settled into our tents for a bit of rest before hitting the trail again, but I couldn’t sleep. I was ruminating on what exactly a ‘Doghead’ would be, aside from the obvious. Jackdaw said it was big, but how big? We’d hunted everything from waste gangers to mutated bears and he had never once referred to anything as big.

My mind raced as I tossed and turned, planning backup plans for my backup plans. Pointless, but I couldn’t help myself, I never could.

I used to count sheep to fall asleep. These days, the only things jumping over my head were Bloaters, cannibals, and every other radioactive boogeyman in the book. After hours of trying, I finally drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

Shrieking.

An ear piercing wall of noise that reverberated in my head like a gun shot, followed by the sound of a horse’s cries as the shrieking faded into the distance.

I was out of my sleeping bag and on my feet before the fog had cleared from my head. I scrambled for my gun before realizing I had accidentally left it outside of the tent.

When I exited, Jackdaw was already outside. He was kneeling in defeat staring at the ground, surrounded by pools of crimson, reflecting the last of the moonlight. My colt was restless and whinnying like he saw a snake. I took in my surroundings. My gun? Still on the rock where I had left it.

Our supplies? Still neatly stacked in the corner of the overhang.

The horses? Only my colt.

Jenny, Jackdaw’s prize mare, inexplicably gone.

I knew what happened to her, and my chest tightened when I realized Jackdaw was crying.

“Please lord, let her be okay…” He wheezed.

I looked around for track marks. Maybe she just broke free? Nothing. Just the pool of blood that slowly creeped towards Jackdaw, still kneeling where his ‘baby girl’ once stood.

He didn’t have a family, as far as I knew.

That horse was the only exception to his “no naming” rule. He raised her from a foal and loved her like a child.

I felt for him, but I knew that my condolences were lost on a man like that.

“We better start moving, it could still be nearby.”

I told him, gathering whatever supplies would fit on the back of my colt. He just nodded and rose to his shaky feet. Within minutes, we were back on the trail.

We took turns riding the Colt, who was still anxious as all hell and even harder to steer than when we first entered. He loved Jenny too, always preening her and sharing his snacks.. Even if he didn’t follow my lead, he always followed hers.

Still refused to let me take his coverings off too, meaning he hadn’t eaten for at least a day. If he didn’t relent by the next rest stop, I would sedate him to get it off. He pissed me off, but I wasn’t stoked about the idea of walking home, let alone trading with the cannibals again.

Luckily, the next overhang wasn’t too far ahead, maybe another kilometer or two according to the map provided to us. Once again, I was the one who broke the long silence.

“Why didn’t the sonic fence go off? I know for certain I switched it on before I called it for the night.”

“Cause it never crossed the threshold.”

“What? The horses were far enough from the posts, it should have tripped if they crossed through.”

“Not if it wasn’t on the ground.”

“It’s just a big dog, no?”

“I never said it was a dog, just that it’s big.”

“Well that’s a comforting thought.”

We dropped the conversation. He wasn’t having it, more so than usual. Jenny was too fresh in his mind and he was about to boil over. Once again, nothing but the clop of hooves and the occasional huff from my Colt.

“Ya know something, Rook?”

His sudden willingness to speak caught me off guard.

“Whats that?”

“I don’ think I ever asked ya where ya from. Originally that is.”

“My family’s from up north, we relocated south after the snow got too heavy. Kept getting worse year after year.”

“How far up north?”

“Far enough.” I chuckled.

“Canada?”

“Bingo.”

“Would’ya look at that? Never woulda pegged ya for a yeti.”

“We were living in California before the last of the animals disappeared, Dad thought farming would be a good change of pace from logging.”

“Loggers huh? So ya part samsquanch too. Helluva combo there Rooky.”

I hated it when he called me Rooky. Clever play on words, I’ll give him that, but I preferred Rook.

The day the Guild gave me my new name, I left my old life behind and never looked back. Nothing to look back on anyhow.

“What about you old man? Where are you from?”

He shot me a cocked eyebrow.

“The accent don’ give me away Rooky?”

We both laughed, he had a point there.

“I’m from round here, pops was a breeder, didn’t know my mama. She died well before I had the mind to care.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

“Meh, breeding ain’t too bad.”

That’s not what I meant, but he knew that.

“Alright now, hush up. Our quarry ain’t never too far away.”

There’s the Jackdaw I know, back to business.

After riding for a bit, it became clear that my Colt didn’t like Jack anymore than myself. It made me feel a little better about my situation, but the next rest stop was just ahead and I was about to find out how much this stubborn ass of a horse really liked me. I dismounted and tied him off to an Ironwood and stroked his mane to show him I was only here to help. He wouldn’t let me near his ears where the wrappings were secured, so Jackdaw gave it a shot and he was even more reluctant to comply.

Sedation it is.

Jack showed me how to sneak an injection into the hind leg and within minutes, he was out. I stuffed his wrappings and respirator into the saddle and laid out some food and water for when he woke up before packing it in for the night.

We had a long day, and even though the sun hadn’t begun to set, the three of us didn’t get sufficient sleep and we were fighting off the sandman with every step.

The night went smoothly, for the most part.

The sonic fence tripped in the early morning, but when we investigated, it was just a harmless snake, a rarity in these parts. Far from its natural habitat, it just wandered aimlessly through our camp.

When most of the animals disappeared, snakes and birds seemed were exempt, much to my Colts dismay. Good thing he was still out cold. We sat around the embers of last night’s fire and ate our Nutri-Paste breakfast, forcing down the sludge with gulps of water. I was regretting having that second helping of stew last night, but after the day we had, I felt it was deserved.

“Ya gonna finish that?”

Jackdaw said, eyeing my half eaten tube.

“I don’t know how you manage to stomach this shit.”

I offered him the tube and he snatched it from my hands, wringing it like toothpaste into his mouth. He had bits of slop stuck in his beard as he patted his belly like a fat aristocrat.

“I don’ know how ya manage to be so damn skinny.”

He retorted.

I laughed, cause it was true. I was pretty thin for a Reiter. Jack’s age and gluttonous appetite betrayed his build. He was built like a brick shit house under that duster, and it showed when you saw him work. The Nutri-Paste is very high in nutrients as you’d guess, protein most of all. Probably why I haven’t bulked up like the rest of the Reiters, but I can’t handle more than a tube or two before I retch.

“Ya hear that?”

He looked at me with a face I’ve only seen once before.

“No, noth-“

A black shadow followed by the shriek of a Banshee flew past our heads.

Before I could react, Jackdaw had already taken off with his rifle, scanning the tops of the canyon.

Nothing but orange sky, but that didn’t stop him.

He was booking it further into the canyon, alone.

“JACKDAW!”

I screamed at the top of my lungs. He didn’t hear me, or didn’t want to.

“Fucking christ.”

I grabbed the repeater from the saddle of my still sleeping horse and took off after him.

“JACK! WAIT UP YOU OLD FUCK!”

I tried to keep up, but his old legs had years on mine and he got further and further, disappearing around a bend.

When I turned the corner he was standing completely still in front of a mountain of bones.

On the top of the pile laid Jenny, or what I assumed to be her.

Picked clean. Nothing but bloodied bones, tendons, and tufts of her blood caked mane.

Jackdaw began to scale the mountain of victims, slipping and sinking as he climbed higher and higher.

When he reached her, he collapsed and stroked what was left of her speckled muzzle and bawled like a baby.

I felt like I shouldn’t be bothering him, but the Doghead was nearby, so I called to him from the base of the mound.

“Jack, we need to move!”

No response.

“You’re a sitting duck and it’s den can’t be far from where it eats!”

“SHUT IT!”

He screamed.

“Just…shut it, Rook.”

I let him have his moment, but my main concern was my horse and the rest of our supplies at camp. The canyon was cannibal territory, and they wouldn’t think twice about stealing everything they could fit on the backs of their own mounts. I had to convince Jackdaw to get moving, by any means necessary. Not an easy feat.

“I’m going back to camp, throw me your clackers if you plan on dying.”

He rummaged through his bag and tossed me the bundle of clackers, keeping his eyes on Jenny as he did so.

Fucking idiot, he’ll die alone like this. Reiters ride in two’s for a reason, and he knows that. I can only hope he comes to his senses. I started jogging back to camp, but kept an eye on him until he disappeared around the bend.

The jog back was a gradual incline of soft black sand and my legs were burning. I could just make out the outline of my Colt, still out cold. Hopefully. When I got to camp, he seemed to be untouched along with our supplies. I started tearing down camp and by the time I was finished, Jackdaw was cresting over the hill, thank god. He waved at me and I waved back. But something was wrong. He was limping. A blood soaked bandage wrapped around his thigh.

Not good.

I knelt down to start waking up my Colt with soft scratches under his chin. He nickered gently at my touch and nuzzled his head into my hand.

I smiled and caught myself getting giddy at the sincerity of it. I finally started to feel like we were bonding.

Maybe I was too harsh with Jack, but he did endanger himself carelessly.

I could finally see why he stressed not getting attached to your mount. The Colt started to stand, shaking his head to rid himself of the thin layer of dust that had accumulated. He was majestic, his black coat shining under the red sun.

I think I’ll name him once we finally wake from this nightmare.

I looked down the hill towards Jackdaw, who was still far away and my heart sank into my stomach.

Behind him, perched atop the canyon wall, was a massive black shape.

“BEHIND YOU!” I belted to Jack.

He was still hobbling his way to me, but before he could turn around, that same shriek from earlier rang out from the shape.

It unfurled its wings, spanning almost the same width as the canyon and swooped down low, just above the sand.

Jackdaw looked back and immediately shouldered his repeater, firing off a volley of shots towards the beast. It didn’t seem to affect the creature at all and it closed the distance between itself and Jack within seconds.

Just before it reached him, long taloned feet extended from its distended belly to snatch him up. I was in shock, forgetting about the rifle slung across my back. Jackdaw dropped to the ground just in time as I scrambled for the clackers in my bag. I ripped one from the bundle and sparked it, the red smoke and distinct clacking noise filled the canyon and I chucked it as far as I could in the opposite direction from Jackdaw. It flew over me and dove onto the clacker as planned, but immediately deduced my deception and soared higher above the canyon for another dive bomb.

I unslung my rifle and emptied the magazine. Again, no effect.

My horse reared, trying to free itself from the Ironwood. Before the creature reached me, I untied the horse and saddled up. But I wasn’t its target. It headed straight for Jackdaw, who was still trying to pick himself up from the ground, the blood from his leg soaking into the soft sands around him.

Before I could reload, it had already grabbed Jack by the duster and was dragging him across the ground, wearing him out before taking off again. I raced after him on horseback, but it was faster. Like instinct, the Colt pushed itself even harder, slowly catching up to Jackdaw and his captor. Before the bend, it climbed higher above the walls and disappeared. We turned the corner and where I was expecting to find the vile monster feasting on my friend, was the mountain of corpses. They vanished.

I searched around the pile, but the canyon ended. Nothing but a sheer wall of scorched sandstone that split up the middle with a meter wide fissure.

I cursed the sky and bellowed until the taste of copper stung in my throat.

I dismounted and inspected the bone pile, seeing if maybe he was still alive under the bones. As I dug, I noticed the remains were of various animals, some I recognized from old textbooks and others I couldn’t. I gave up once the Colt caught my attention with his snorts. I consoled him, feeding him a spare apple from my bag before remounting, not sure where to look. We paced around the bones, aimless and desperate. That’s when the faint echo of dripping water caught my attention, coming from the fissure. The Colt caught on and trotted over to the crack and sniffed around. Surely the monster would also need water. I left my cup with some water for the horse and crouched down to inspect the fissure. Jack wouldn’t have been able to fit, but it was just big enough for me to squeeze through if I took my hat off. I left it on the horn of the saddle and took the plunge into the wet dark.

The passage went on for what felt like miles, but eventually it opened up a bit and I could shimmy without the walls scraping against my chest and back. I had sparked a clacker to the light the way, which acted like a flare in a pinch, but the sound was deafening. Probably giving myself away, but I was desperate and almost wanted the fucker to find me. I’d tear its throat out if I had the chance.

It was easy to lose track of time there, the only indication being the bite of my boots into my feet. I only stopped when the dripping crescendoed into the rushing of water. The humidity and stale breeze of the entrance vanished and was replaced with a damp, cool earthy smell that brought me back to my youth. It gave me the boost to push further in and I could almost taste the vengeance on my tongue. Ahead of me was the faint glow of moonlight seeping through the passage. When I reached it, I slipped on a loose rock and tumbled down into a deep recess surrounded by blooming foliage, twisting my ankle. The pain was fleeting, but I cut up my knees and hands pretty bad. I wiped the blood on my trousers and the sting of pebbles in my wounds brought me back to reality. I jumped to my feet to scan the cavern around me. Luscious trees, pools of crystal clear water and a small river bisecting the path ahead of me.

I crossed it carefully, almost slipping on the slimy river bed. The cool water was fresh, which surprised me. Where was this coming from? There wasn’t a fresh body of water for hundreds upon hundred of kilometers. Was this all from rainfall? But that didn’t sit well with me either, the wastes only see rain once in a blue moon and surely not enough to feed an entire ecosystem this lush.

Past the river sat an ancient looking tree, bleeding golden sap that shimmered in the moonlight. Nothing grew beneath it. Past that, more darkness. If I was going to find Jackdaw, this is where he’d be, but no bones or signs of a monster’s den in sight, aside from the tree. It had large thick branches, one of them completely shorn of its leaves and covered in deep gashes which seeped even more sap.

I was defeated, ready to throw in the towel and head back from where I came.

“Rrrrroooook…”

Jackdaw’s voice. It was distant, but sounded like it was coming from somewhere within the darkness of the canyon.

“Jackdaw!?”

I called out into the void.

“Huuuush uuup…”

His voice was off. It gurgled and rasped like he was talking through a mouthful of blood and gravel.

“Jack? Where are you!?”

“…n-neverrrr toooo f-farrrrrrr…”

It was definitely coming from the darkness beyond the tree.

“Stay there! I’m coming!”

I rushed over, passing the tree to the edge of the moonlight shining down. I stopped before I crossed, picking one of the last clackers from my bag and cracking it. I tossed it far into the dark. It illuminated nearly the entire backside of the cavern as it flew. The red smoke rose up and out of the hole in the ceiling. It landed and I scrambled backwards towards the tree, falling on my ass after tripping on its roots.

Obscured by the smoke, only the mangled bottom half of the Doghead was visible.

Its feet weren’t those of a large bird or even a dog.

They were shaped like a bird’s feet, but molded from human limbs of different sizes. The talons were sharpened bones from shredded arms and legs. It creeped closer, like a predator ready to pounce.

When its massive head passed through the smoke, I screamed in terror and felt the blood beating in my neck like a drum.

“…huuuussshhh…”

It spoke with Jackdaw’s voice. Its head was reminiscent of a dog’s, with a snout and ribcage canines, and huge eyes that boggled out of its skull like a rat. Its body was a mess, sloughing off in chunks of rotten meat. I couldn’t tell where its head started and its body ended. It tilted its head like a curious dog and then twisted it all the way around, the skin of what would be its neck shredding with the sound of sloshing blood that spilt from the wound. The skin re-fused as soon as it stopped twisting and unfurled its massive wings that looked like yards of patchwork skin. It let out another long shriek that left a ringing in my ears that persists to this day.

I tried to scream again, but the only sound I could manage was a whimper and as I crawled further away from it, my ankle throbbed with every shuffle until my back met the trunk of the golden tree.

It got closer, and closer, until I could feel the rotten stench of its hot breath fill my lungs. I retched onto myself, trying to keep my composure, hoping it would turn a blind eye, but I knew better. I was going to die here, under the golden canopy of this ancient tree.

“…sssskinnyyyyy…”

It hissed at me.

Cocking its head again, sizing me up like seconds when you’re almost too full to keep going. It let loose a long, mottled tongue, like a snake, and wrapped it around my neck and face to get a taste of me.

“NOOOO!”

I wheezed out, my voice cracking. Here it comes, sweet release.

I steadied myself against the ground when I felt the six-shooter still holstered on my belt. I didn’t think it would do much if our rifles couldn’t even bring it down, after all, the pistol was meant for dispatching men, the rifle for monsters. It’ll have to do. I drew the gun with a finesse and speed I didn’t think I was capable of and fanned all six shots into the underside of its chin. A weak spot, not capable of putting it down permanently, but enough to distract as I ran. At least, that’s what I’d hoped.

It reared its gnarled head back and shrieked, but I could tell this was different; It was in pain. I pushed myself up off the ground and bolted as fast as my ankle would allow, gritting my teeth through the pain shooting up my leg. It was definitely sprained at the least, I could feel it swelling against the sides of my boot. I got to the water and started to trudge through, slowing my pace considerably. It was already on the chase, brushing off the shots like a stubbed toe. I managed to make it across the river when it stopped, right at the edge of the river rocks. It didn’t want to touch the water, and for a brief moment I felt safe on my side of the fence. I took that moment to quickly reload my revolver like Jackdaw had shown me before..

“Slow is fast.” He taught me.

I didn’t understand entirely how that worked, but I wasn’t fumbling like I normally would. The adrenaline pumping through me would cause my hands to shake, but slow, smooth movements made the process as slick as oil. I readied the gun, aiming high, waiting for it to try something. It did, flapping its giant wings and knocking me over with gale force winds as it took flight over me. It landed right on top of me, its bone talons digging into my chest, my ribs, my thighs, completely pinning me to the ground with no escape. My head started to spin, like one too many shots of rye and I was fighting consciousness with every breath. I felt it coming, that sweet release. I didn’t feel pain, just a dull tingle as my body went cold.

And then it picked me up, its head leaning down to swallow me whole. I snapped back, adrenaline coursing through me and I unload another six shots into the foot gripping me. It let go, but I was already situated right above its gaping mouth, stretching so wide that its cheeks ripped open before healing back up to seal me in. It could fit a whole tractor in its maw so it had no problem fitting my slender frame within.

There were no teeth, no gums, no gnashing or grinding of bones.

Just hundreds of human hands that gripped onto every inch of my body, forcing me further down its throat and into its stomach.

I was suffocating on its horrid breath; no air to recuperate.

The last thing I remember before I lost consciousness was that stench. A god awful miasma that smelled like a house fire, fueled by eons of corpse meat and oceans of congealed blood.

I woke up in a dark place. Cold, stale, but comforting. I felt as if I was floating. Drifting. Bobbing up and down, side to side. The stench of decay was gone. Now it smelled like freshly fallen rain on a forest trail. The smell of moss and fertile black soil. I was back home. But it didn’t look like home, the nights never got this dark. Then there was a light, distant, but growing. peeking over a horizon of neon that lit up the sky with the stars of my childhood. The plane before me stretched on and on, endlessly.

I wasn’t actually home, this was just a memory. Or maybe a dream? Hazy but strangely lucid. I noticed black shapes slowly rise from the earth and start to shamble around aimlessly. It was people, real people. Naked, shorn of their spark. Wanderers made of the same flesh and blood that I once was. I thought I recognized a couple of the faces that walked about me, but could never place them to a name. In my stomach sat a dread that weighed on me. It brought me down. Anchored me to the soft soil below. I could now start my eternity with fresh feet and felt compelled to chase the floating light that gave me sight, but it kept rising higher, until it hung over my head. A celestial halo, just for me. It warmed my cold bones and set my head alight. Maybe this was home? Well, it was now. I had already forgotten my name, my identity. I was one with the halo, and it was one with me. I became the moss, the soil, the Earth in its entirety.

That’s when I felt a hand on my shoulder. A familiar sensation. I craned my neck to see who it was. A scruffy looking man. Tall. Strong. All too familiar. His pocked face wore a benevolent smile. I didn’t know why, or what he was, but he was. Like the others who shuffled by, he was naked. Skin shining against the halo light. Luminescent. Brilliant. He spoke.

“Ya don’ belong here friend.”

His voice echoed into the eternity.

“I do. It feels…safe, here.”

He shook his head, his smile never fading.

“Hush up now, go home.”

Those words. Those three short words hit me like a freight train and I was snapped out of my haze, returning to the darkness. It was warm, hot, and the stench was unbearable.I was still in its belly and I wasn’t ready to die, not yet.

I reached a withered arm into my satchel and drew the last clacker. I sparked it, the smoke sputtering out in puffs and once again I could see. The walls of its stomach were lined with silent, screaming faces. Men, women. Children. I took the lit end of the clacker and jammed it into the mouth of one of the faces.

The beast started to shake violently, jostling me from side to side.

The walls started to contract, squeezing me into the grimaced faces of its past victims before spitting me out. I fell far and hit the ground hard with a splash of thick, red bile that coated me completely. I was free from digestion, but not from its wrath. It tried to shriek again, but could only manage a gurgled rasp. It was dazed and confused, clearly not used to its food fighting back from the inside, so I took advantage of its disoriented state and began to run back to where I entered the cavern.

I only made it halfway across the river before realizing that the hill I fell down when I entered was much too steep to climb back out without the Doghead catching up to me. New plan; I turned on a dime and hobbled as fast I could towards the tree, the creature still occupied with the clacker burning deep within its molten flesh. The smoke plumed out of its mouth, coughing up more red bile as the clacker burnt through the last of its fuel. I scaled the tree with difficulty, having trouble with my injured ankle as I coughed up bloody foam from my punctured lung the whole way up. I wasn’t sure what I’d do once I got to a high enough vantage point, but it was better than a one hundred percent chance of dying on that hill. As I reached the scarred branch dripping with golden sap, the Doghead was back on the prowl. Yipping at me as it continuously clawed at the base of the tree with a fury that shook the leaves from the branches. Above me, I could hear the familiar clang of metal on metal that would surely be my last hope. Jackdaw’s repeater, hanging by its sling on a young branch, just a meter or two higher than where I was gripping on for dear life. With every swipe of the beast’s talons, the rifle scooted closer and closer to the end of the branch, bowing as it buckled under the weight. Eventually it would fall and I braced myself to snatch it out of the air before it fell to the ground, or on my head. But the Doghead stopped. It had seen me eyeing the rifle and seemingly knew that its temper tantrum was exactly what I was relying on.

“COME ON! COME GET ME YOU BITCH!”

It backed away, looking around the tree with a neck that stretched horribly from its body like a diseased turtle, and it waited. It sat entirely still for what felt like hours, but could only have been a couple minutes. It was letting the adrenaline leave my bloodstream as I would eventually pass out from my injuries, and then it could do with me as it pleased.

“DON’T YOU WANT THIS!?”

I smeared my hands in the blood soaking my duster and showed them to it, trying to bait it into giving me what I wanted, but it was smarter than that. I felt tears begin to well up in my eyes for the first time since Jackdaw had found me on that fateful day in the wastes. This was where I end, and I had to make peace with that. I crouched down carefully into a seated position on the branch, making sure to steady my shaking bones so as to not end my life too soon. I was going to enjoy my last few minutes of life, drunk. I pulled a flask from the inside of my duster, something I kept hidden from Jack since he was quite the alcoholic back in the day. Couldn’t stop himself from sneaking a swig or two whenever I left it out. Even so, I always made sure to fill it up with his favorite rye on the off chance I decided to share. I wished he was there to have one last drink with me, so I just made sure to drink enough for the both of us. I downed the thing, letting the last bit of it drip onto my tongue before tossing it to the ground below. The beast eyed the shiny container as it clanged against one of the tree’s many roots, shaking its head in annoyance at the sound before stomping on it to stop the pinging noise it made. Weird. Not much seemed to affect the monster negatively, other than three thousand degrees of chemical fire, roasting it from the inside out, but then I remembered something strange from when it first dive bombed us in the canyon. The clacker I used to try and distract the beast had seemingly worked, but with the amount of intelligence it had shown me here, it made me second guess WHY it worked. It wasn’t a charging bull or a heat seeking projectile, no, that would be beneath it. I came to the conclusion that it must HATE loud noises. The blaring clack of the flares was ear piercing enough for me to plug my ears, let alone a mutated beast with heightened senses such as this. I had an idea. I looked up again into the canopy, searching frantically as I was already feeling the effects of the rye kicking in, hard. I needed to make this fast, or else.

I bear hugged the massive girth of the tree to keep myself steady as I peeked around it for any other items that Jack might’ve dropped into the canopy, and there it was. Resting perfectly on a branch, just barely out of reach from me, was his satchel. I started to slowly shimmy my way to the edge of the thick branch to make a jump for the next one between me and the satchel.

The Doghead was circling the tree beneath, its dead eyes glued to me the entire time as it watched intently.

I readied myself for the jump.

One.

Two.

Three.

I jumped and landed on my stomach, knocking the air out of me as I held on for dear life. The Doghead was pacing now, trying to anticipate what I had up my sleeve. Once I could breathe again, I pulled myself up with the last of my strength. Okay, that was a good start, now for the moment of truth. I laid down on my stomach and reached for the satchel as far as I could manage safely. I was just a hair too far to loop my finger around its strap, but I couldn’t risk another jump, not while my head spun from my premature celebration of life. I reached further and further, but I felt myself tipping over the edge and had to stop.

“Fuck…” If only I had…

I looked back to my belt and unsheathed the knife I had only used to prepare our fresh meals before now. It was exactly what I needed and I swiftly scooped up the bag with ease. I laughed nervously with relief, this was my last chance and I rose once again, legs shaking, but my nerves hard as steel. I was going to live long enough to see this fucker squirm one way or another. I opened the bag, taking in its contents. An old wick lighter, a shriveled up tube of Nutri-Paste, what looked like a photograph and bingo. Another bundle of clackers. Thank you Jack, you old dog. Your last lesson to me, always bring extra clackers. I removed all the contents of the bag aside from the clackers and stuffed them into my own. It was time to test my theory, and god I hoped I was right.

I pulled a clacker from the bundle and lit it, waving it around to see how the beast reacted, and it did.

It yipped at me again, shaking its head as if to brush off a buzzing fly that kept trying to fly into its ear.

It didn’t like it, but it wasn’t any more than an annoyance.

I needed more noise.

Without much forethought, I tossed the burning flare into Jack’s bag with the rest of the clackers, and I threw it above my head into the canopy of the tree. It soared for a moment before hooking itself on a higher branch as the bag was engulfed with crimson flames.

The clackers went off like gunshots, igniting one after another until the cavern boomed with irregular intervals of noise.

The Doghead was not having it, trying to cover its ears with its grotesque wings of paper thin flesh. But it wasn’t just going to roll over and die from the noise, instead, it took off into the air with a gust that knocked loose Jackdaw’s rifle and almost blew me off the tree with it. It dove into the canopy, trying to snuff out the clackers like it had done before in the canyon, but in its haste, it had impaled itself on the tree. It was now stuck, as the bag ignited the golden sap in a brilliant flash of ochre flames like I had never seen before. The sap seemed to act like an accelerator that quickly engulfed the canopy and began spreading to every branch and down the trunk. I jumped down, bracing myself for a roll to break my fall, but I just ended up landing on my feet before feeling my ankle break for sure this time. I definitely broke more than just my ankle, but the rye helped numb the pain enough to not notice right away. I crawled over to Jack’s rifle, just in case, and loaded 6 more rounds into the chamber and shouldered it. The Doghead shrieked in agony, drowning out everything, even my own thoughts. I watched through the iron sights as it charred into a crisp atop the once beautiful tree, a real shame. I would’ve liked to come back here some day to show my future children the splendor, but it was worth it. The Doghead would finally burn, for good.

I blacked out long before I could confirm that I finished it off, but my colleagues who had miraculously found me inches from death, reassured me it was gone. They had brought the burnt remains back to the Guild in a caravan, for proof of my accomplishment. It was customary to bring a trophy back, for confirmation of a finished job, and for bragging rights amongst the other Reiters. In the months following, as my broken body slowly healed, I became something of a local celebrity within the Guild Hall. Everyone was itching to ride with me, be Jackdaw’s replacement.

But I wouldn’t replace him, I couldn’t really.

I was just going to take things easy for a while, spoil myself with my payout and maybe buy some property on the nicer side of town. I still dreamed of the time I spent digesting in the stomach of the Doghead. Of the nebula that was missing from our own sky, of the halo and the naked people wandering aimlessly, of the faces that cried out in silence. Of Jack. It haunted me. Shit…it still does, but as that memory faded with time, so did my apprehension to getting a new partner. The new guy goes by Jay and seems nice enough for a whelp, but he reminds me too much of myself when Jack first took me in. Too eager, too skinny, but he’s a damn good shot, like Jack was. I’ll teach him the same way I was taught, and keep Jack’s memory alive through that. Just, maybe this time I’ll show him that special knot before we set out tomorrow for the old city. They’re starting us off light this hunt. Probably to give myself some time to shake the rust off and break in the new guy. A pack of Cherubs have been terrorizing a supply line in the downtown core and the people are starving out there. Not a fantastic payout, but an easy enough job for Jay’s first hunt. I hope he can keep up with me and Fresno though, we became quite the pair after the canyon and he’s faster than ever.

Speaking of, I oughta bring him to Jack and Jenny’s grave someday. Maybe he’d like that? I don’t know if horses feel emotions like we do, but I want to bring Fresno to see Jenny one last time. Even if it’s just for me, we’ll share an apple under the crimson sky and pour one out for old Jack, like the old days.

I’ll bring his favorite rye and the photo he had left in his satchel.

A picture of him and a little girl, no older than five or six years old.

Written on the bottom in smudged ink…

“Daddy & Jenny go riding”

Credit: G.F. Barrett

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