Chapter – 1

A Short Trip

Kimber Thomas drove down the long, lonely, dirt country road. Her family lived about fifteen miles Southeast of Keechi, a nothing town in backwoods of East Texas. They didn’t live in the middle of nowhere. The middle of nowhere implied some geographical significance. If you were truly in the middle of nowhere, any direction you headed would be somewhere. They didn’t have such a luxury. They were just nowhere enough that if you drove any direction there was a fair chance of driving into even deeper nowhere. 

Kimber was driving towards Keechi’s hub of civilization, a small feed store called ‘No Pain No Grain’. Her dad’s old faded blue ‘85 Chevy truck bounced over the potholes with a tired creak. It had years of hard work on the property under its rusted belt. Kimber couldn’t have blamed the truck if it fell apart right under her. But a good God-blessed made-in-American truck would never give up that easy. The hot summer breeze poured through the windows, the burning wind preferable to the steaming oven inside the cab. She was sweaty and tired. But it was summer in Texas; She got sweaty just looking out the window. Her father had sent her for an important job, and she intended to see it through.

Pulling into the feed store parking lot, Kimber saw the same three trucks she always saw: Two Fords and a GMC. But there was one white SUV crossover she didn’t recognize. She couldn’t tell exactly what brand it was, but it didn’t match the rest. It was some foreign city car that wouldn’t last a week out on the rough roads around Keechi. She parked and headed towards the entrance, fighting the urge to eyeball the car too hard. She didn’t want the driver to come out and catch her snooping. But she couldn’t resist. It was so foreign, both literally and metaphorically. She peeked in the windows as she walked past it. 

What she saw put a pit in her stomach. Despite the soccer-mom appearance of the car, inside it was a different story. It was thankfully unoccupied. There was a set of duffel bags lining the back seats with all sorts of unrecognizable electronics and tools strapped to them. Behind those bags were two different rifle cases. Rifle bags were nothing special in the country, but there was just something off about the scene. On the floorboards, she could swear she saw some kind of sword. The front seats were similar. She caught sight of a pistol attached under the dash. Several knives were stuffed in various pockets and crevices within reach of the driver. But that was all she could see without stopping for a closer look. And after what she saw, she had no intention of stopping. 

She couldn’t resist staring back at the car as she opened the door to the store. Without watching, she stepped through the threshold and straight into someone. 

“Oh! I’m sorry!” Kimber shouted.

The man smiled a little too friendly in response. “All is well.” He replied. 

The stranger stepped past her out the door. She got a better look at him as he walked away. He was dressed in all black, black jeans, black western boots, black button up, black jean jacket, right up to a black rodeo hat with a hawk feather sticking out the back of it. The man walked over to the foreign car and got inside. 

Kimber managed to peel her attention away from the stranger as the door to the shop shut and cut off her view. Old Lucas, the man behind the counter, raised his eyebrows with a significant look. He was no more used to seeing strangers than she was. 

“Who was that?” Kimber asked. 

“Some odd feller. Was asking about ‘strange happenings in the area’.” Lucas held his fingers in air quotes and took on a deep voice to mimic the stranger. 

“I’ve never seen anyone like that around here.” Kimber gazed off at the door.

It occurred to her she might be seeing more strangers like him in the near future. In a few months she would be heading off to college. It was not an experience she was looking forward to. She was terrified. What if the experience changed her? What if it turned her into a communist, or worse, a frat girl?

“So what are you looking for today, Kimmy?” Lucas leaned over the counter in that friendly country way that bordered on creepy, but for some reason wasn’t.

“Just looking for some shells.” She replied.

Lucas’ eyes lit up with excitement. 

“Not for that.” Kimber added before he could ask. “Something is killing our goats. We need some buckshot and slugs.

Lucas pouted, “You had me all excited for a second there. I thought you was competing again. Was about ready to order some extra boxes of doves for ya.”

“I haven’t practiced in over a year.”

“And don’t I know it!” Lucas exclaimed, pointing at the boxes in the corner, “Right there, had those doves sitting there for year and a half now! Back in the good ol’ days you’d be back for more before I had new ones ordered.”

“I know, I know.” Kimber smiled and shook her head.

“The orange color gonna fall right off them skeet targets if they sit there any longer!”

Kimber laughed. “I don’t think they can do that.”

She lacked the sense of humor required to engage with Lucas, so she resorted to the language of smiling and chuckling whenever Lucas’ cued her with a mischievous smile.

Lucas put a box of twenty buckshot on the counter and a pack of six slugs right next to them. “Now don’t you go shooting these slugs through your nice Blaser. They’re reloads and don’t have no guarantee. Would fire all wobbly through the barrel anyway.”

“Mine’s the only twelve gauge we have at the house.”

Lucas let out a long groan, “Like putting lawn mower oil in a formula one. Breaking my heart, young lady.”

Kimber laughed again. She dug in her pocket for the fifty her dad gave her and passed it over the counter. Lucas looked at it like she just dropped a dead squirrel on the counter. 

“What’r you- put that back in your pocket!” He put his arms on his waist.

“What?”

“Your daddy’s goats are getting killed you say? You got some predator skulking around the property all off on your own out there. I ain’t gonna charge you for nothing. I owe Charles more favors than I can count. On my last day I ain’t gonna go see the Lord and have to explain why I charged good old Charles Thomas for a couple slugs to save his family!”

Kimber knew better than to object. Lucas could not be dissuaded once his mind was made up on something. If anything, it would make him more ornery. If she objected too much, he might end up throwing in another ten boxes of ammo before she could get away. She took the shells off the counter with a smile.

“Thank you, Lucas.”

“But do me one favor.” He added.

“What?”

“You start practicing for another competition, you get these old doves out of here before they turn to dust. They deserve to be put to rest by a true artist, shattered to pieces way up in the sky.”

Kimber lowered her head, “These day, you give me a go at them and they’ll all be put to rest in the grass.”

“Ah, now I don’t believe that for a minute.”

Kimber didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t like she was being modest. She actually sucked. Ever since that one competition, when she choked on the last point, her skill seemed to drain through a hole poked in her soul. She had gone through a dozen boxes of doves and she couldn’t even nick one. She lost count how many doves she picked up off the ground to recycle. Eventually, the hundreds of doves slowly deteriorated by the basic laws of entropy until there were none left. When the last one finally shattered in the grass, her father offered to drive up to the store to get more. That was when Kimber finally gave up. 

Her final despair didn’t end with a scream or a roar of frustration. She didn’t even cry. Before, during the slow grieving process of losing her skill, she had shouted, cussed, stomped, and wailed. But the last surrender was a mediocre fizzle. When her dad pulled the car keys out of his pocket, she just hummed an emotionless “no”, and set her gun in its case. The gun hadn’t been out of its case since that day over a year ago. 

“But you say your daddy’s goats are getting killed. He know what’s doing it?”

“We aren’t sure. We’ve lost three goats in the past week.”

“Mary May?” Lucas asked fearfully.

“No, Mary May is safe, thank God.”

“Good.”

Mary May was an oddity. By all appearances she was a normal goat, grey fur with a splash of black along the left side of her face. But there was just something different about her. Everyone who met her agreed that this goat was special. People wanted to spend time with her. Neighbors brought gifts at Christmas for her. Mary May was a bit of a town obsession. Mr. Dulway down the road from them even made a scrap metal statue of the goat to put up in the park. It was a pretty good likeness too. But Mrs. Tanner complained because it looked a bit too much like a cult idol, so Dulway just put it at the end of his driveway. Kimber would find herself talking to Mary May for hours. The goat wouldn’t give her so much as a ‘baa’, but it still felt like they had enjoyed a lengthy conversation.

“But you’re finding them dead. In what state?” Lucas asked.

“In an odd state, that’s for sure. They’re all torn up like a mountain lion or something, but the bite marks are so tiny. And there’s also what looks like stab wounds in them.”

“Stab wounds?”

“Holes poked all over them. Cuts and slashes too. It’s like a pack of chihuahuas with knives went after em.” Kimber tried to describe it in a funny way, but the mental image of a bunch of snarling chihuahuas with knives turned out to be scarier than she had hoped. 

An odd thought suddenly sprung up, grabbing at her gut. Whatever killed their goats was dangerous. It was something she would have to shoot to kill. And if she didn’t kill it, it just may kill her. For the first time, her terrible accuracy became more than just an inconvenience, it was a potentially deadly disability.

“Well you all be careful out there.” Lucas said. “Good luck.”

“Thanks, Lucas.” Kimber turned to the exit.

She subconsciously picked up the pace, hopping to the door. She hoped to get another glimpse at this stranger before he left. Opening the door, she was startled to see him sitting on the hood of his car, facing the front of the store. He was fiddling with some strange black box with a bunch of buttons on it. It wasn’t a phone or remote, but looked more like some kind of stud-detector or something.

“How are you doing this afternoon?” He grinned.

“Uh, good. How about yourself?” She replied.

“Oh, I’m always just on the edge of excellent.”

Kimber was torn between moving by quickly or stopping to talk. He was rather young by the looks of it. Not likely past his mid-twenties. He had a well-groomed five o clock shadow and thick brown hair that swirled out from under his hat. This stranger had a dangerous air about him. Like a spy, or a serial killer, or a communist. But he just seemed important, somehow. Her curiosity overpowered her fear.

“So, what brings you through here?” She asked.

He gave her a curious look. “Have you noticed any strange things going on around here?”

“How do you mean ‘strange’?”

“Well, the manner of ‘strange’ is just what I’m aiming to determine.” 

“I… Uh… sorry. I don’t understand.” Kimber stuttered.

“Something brought me through here. I have no idea what it is, but I’m always somewhere for a reason. And it’s always a strange reason. All I have to do is find out what it is.” The stranger grew more intense as he spoke, setting the black box to the side to focus all his attention on Kimber, “That’s why I ask, with genuine curiosity, if you have noticed anything, and I mean anything, strange going on around here.”

“Huh… well… I don’t believe anything worth mentioning.”

“No odd sightings? Shadows in the trees? Voices from a cave no one dares go near? Missing persons? Shrieking in the dead of night that makes your very bones grow soft with terror?”

The conversation took a turn quickly and Kimber decided she was done talking. She just needed to find a way to politely get away from this stranger.

“Ah, well, afraid not. I haven’t noticed anything. You have a nice day.” Kimber began walking away.

“You got something big in mind?” The stranger asked, standing to watch her as she left.

“Huh?”

“The slugs you’ve got there. Those aren’t for skeet shooting, are they?”

Kimber held up the boxes in her hand, “Oh, these? Just… better safe than sorry, you know?” She laughed awkwardly, continuing to back away from him towards her truck. 

“Better safe than sorry. A motto to live by.” He tapped his nose, standing squarely to watch her walk away.

He continued to stand and stare as she climbed in her truck.

“Okay. That was a little weird.” She mumbled to herself as she fumbled the keys and finally started the engine. She looked up to see him, unmoved, still staring at her with a knowing smile. “Okay it was a lot weird. Very very weird.” She gunned the gas and peeled out of the dirt parking lot.

Kimber glanced in her rear view one last time, the dark figure continued to stare. What was he even staring at now, the back of her truck? It felt like she had just fallen into the opening of a scary movie. Who was that man? What strange thing was he looking for? Was he a hit man? A private investigator? Some sort of paranormal monster hunter? As her truck clattered down the long dirt road, the sun was beginning to wane. The sky turned to that odd paleness of approaching evening. The trees surrounding her began to darken and the space between the branches began to deepen with shadow. 

Kimber had driven these roads night and day for years and never felt the slightest thing. But now there was a strange feeling crawling over her skin. She had an undeniable instinct of danger. Something in those trees wished harm upon her. She tried to shake these feelings by reminding herself of the stranger she met at the feed store. He was the only oddity she should be worrying about. Perhaps that was where her instinct of danger was coming from. He could have been following her right now. Kimber checked her mirrors in response to her concern. Her eyes locked into the mirror, dreading the concept of seeing the headlights of the stranger’s cheap foreign car behind her.

A humanoid figure darted across the road in front of her. Kimber just caught sight of it out of the corner of her eye. She slammed on the brakes and yanked the wheel to the side. The wheels locked and rumbled over the gravel. The truck fishtailed, finally coming to a stop diagonally in the middle of the road. Kimber searched frantically for the figure, glancing from window to window. But there was no one to be found. Her heart was pounding in her chest. She took in several shaky breaths. She thought she should get out of the truck, just to check for this figure. She wrapped her hand around the door latch. 

“Nope. Nope. That’s how you get murdered” She scolded herself out loud.

Kimber pressed the door lock, reassuring herself that the doors were secure. She put the truck back in gear and floored the gas. Dusk was settling in. She was already holding up dinner for everyone and her untimely death to a forest dwelling serial killer would certainly dampen their appetites. She was still on edge, but she reassured herself that the evening was coming to a close. It was something she used as a mantra to calm herself down. All the troubles of today would be mere memories in the light of tomorrow. But that phrase was only true if she survived the night.