AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Most of the time.
Music drifted out of the cabin’s open door. Nirvana. “Come as You Are.” Tucker raised a glass to his lips and took a long sip. From the forest, hidden eyes watched. The pig he had slaughtered earlier hung from a butcher’s hook attached to a sturdy tree bough. Tucker wasn’t worried about it attracting bears or wolves. The animals here knew him, and they knew he would leave them the carcass. Tucker was relaxed about predators.
The furred kind, at least.
Something else was bothering him. He felt tense. That was why he was drinking, which he knew he shouldn’t do. It disagreed with him, for several reasons. But tonight, he had needed the slow burn of a good bourbon, just to ease away his edges. Not that it was working so far. The anxious feeling remained. A hard knot in his stomach. Anticipation. But not the pleasant kind.
Something wicked this way comes.
It had started even before they found the boy. When the Colony returned. Tucker didn’t need anyone to come and tell him they were back. He just knew. And now it was happening again. Twenty-five years later. Another killing. Another kid dead.
Something rustled in the undergrowth. Stealthy, soft. A person not so familiar with the sounds of the woods probably wouldn’t have heard it. But Tucker’s senses were more attuned to such things these days.
From the other side of the cabin, where he kept his few pigs and goats—now in their pens for the night—he heard muffled squeals. They sensed it too.
He slipped a hand to the side of his chair, where his crossbow was propped. Then he stood, eyes scanning the dense green foliage. He caught a flicker of twin amber discs. Eyes.
He raised the crossbow. “I know you’re there, so you might as well come out.”
Silence. Or as near as dammit.
Tucker waited.
The forest remained still.
Tucker held his breath.
Finally, a shadow separated from the other shadows and emerged into the faint light of the moon.
The girl was slight and pale, dressed in cut-off jeans, tattered hiking boots and an oversized jacket made of stitched animal skins. Her blonde hair hung in two loose pigtails on either side of her heart-shaped face. A child. No more than nine or ten.
Tucker’s flesh crept.
“I asked you to stay away,” he croaked.
“We did. But now we’re back.”
“That’s a mistake.”
“We’ll see.” The girl cocked her head to one side and regarded him curiously. “You look old, Tucker.”
“That’s what happens. A few grey hairs won’t kill me.”
“Not yet.”
He swallowed. “What do you want, Athelinda?”
In a blink, she was on the deck, inches away. Like a gust of wind had swept her there. Tucker could smell dirt, age, death.
She placed a finger on the tip of the arrow. “I want you to put the crossbow down, before I rip out your throat and bleed you dry like that fucking pig.”
Tucker lowered the weapon.
“Better.” She walked across the deck and sat down in his chair. Then she reached into her pocket and produced a small pipe. From her other pocket she took out a tin of tobacco and a silver lighter.
Tucker eyed her coolly. “I’d say that habit is going to kill you, but…”
“I wish.” She packed the pipe with tobacco and lit it. Then she sat back and propped her boots on the wooden railing. “We need to talk.”
