Kev2012
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Lost But Not Alone *Completed* (part 2/5)
Title: Lost But Not Alone
Author: Kevin Martin
Rated: 18+ (violence, disturbing sexual content and graphic descriptions)
Author's note: Have decided to continue Harp the Hunter into a small serious of three tales, part 1, 2 and 3 freestanding the final two parts linking everything together.
The Engine to the car was purring alluringly, the repetitiveness giving off a peculiarly hypnotic drone. Shelly switched down to fourth then back to fifth gear, just to give a few, very brief, moments of change. She flicked the radio on, and quickly off when the sound of “Tony Christie's, Amarillo” began to pollute the car. After a few more miles, she wound down the window. The air was warm and humid, but it whistled around her hair as she drove, and for a brief time was successful in holding off the almost inevitable sleep. Finally, she looked wearily to the clock which read 5.30pm. Already 7hours of solid driving since she set off, but if she had a two-hour catnap now, that would still leave almost an hour before the sun was defeated, time enough to get off this forest road and maybe find a place where she could rest properly for the night. If luck was on her side a secluded and quiet B&B, sit by a warm fire, nice cup of coco, comfortable sofa, the mere thought of this perfect setting turned Shelly ’s eyelids to lead.
She reclined the chair, and pulled her coat up over her head. Almost at once she was dead to this world, and without knowing let the clock drift at an uncanny rate onwards to 1.49am, and it would have gone further if it weren’t for the sound of a shrill howling that awoke her with a start. She sat up, flicking her jacket onto the passenger’s side, and rubbing her bleary eyes. First thought was she was disturbed from a dream, no nightmare, and the last ruminates of this subconscious state briefly merged with reality. Everything seemed still anyhow, and very quiet, not even a lone bat could be seen in the sky that was dominated by a particularly large, and totally full, moon. But soon things began to appear all too murky for Shelly's liking, Shadowy trees hid shadowy shapes, and the car was cold, the warmth of the day totally disbanded just like most of the light. She shivered, picking up her coat she shuffled around in her seat, sliding her arms in and adjusting until she was snuggled in the warmth of the fur once again.
Shelly turned the key and the Engine rumbled loudly, she turned the headlines on, and was sure she caught a shadow in this far distance hop swiftly out of sight, brushing this off as sleep, or at worst a panther or alike caught unawares, Shelly put the car in gear, and pulled away cautiously from the lay-by. The engine was groaning in the cold night air, then the headlights dimmed, but the car stuttered onwards, the headlights dimmed yet more, now hardly lighting the road ahead, and finally the car kangarooed spectacularly top a stop, now nothing more than an immobile lump of metal. Shelly began to panic, left the car in gear and turned the key, it started, hopped forward and stalled, “crap, crap, crap” she said in a whisper. She turned the key again, this time making sure she was in neutral, the starter motor chugged a rhythmic snarl, but nothing, she tried again, nothing.
The darkness swamped Shelly, the road disappeared, it felt as if the trees and shadows where gathering in all around her, like a pack of wolves homing on its prey. The moon shone bright white, but gave little light in the claustrophobic atmosphere of the forest. Shelly was terrified, she shivered, and sat still as a statue in the car. The noise of every twig snapping or branch blowing in the wind sent a tremor down her spine, finally she started to think of what to do. She could sit in her car, wait till morning, but that was not for another 6 hours at least, and even then she would still have to hope somebody else used this road, which was highly unlikely given she had driven nearly all day and had only passed one old Chevrolet Convertible full of obnoxious drunker teenage revellers travelling at over 90mph and showing all kinds of cleavage as they passed, although even they would be a welcome sight at this precise moment in time! She could walk up the road, maybe for a few hundred metres and might stumble upon an old farm hut, or hunters cabin. Shelly snuggled into her coat as a bitter chill took her, and had made up her mind.
Suddenly a tremendous bang reverberated in the night time sky, like somebody had turned a giant TV, playing Die Hard, on at full blast. Shelly turned; she could see an orange flicker in the blackness, further back down the road, but surely not much further than half a mile at most. She hurried to her boot, fumbled around until she had found a spanner, used for changing her spare wheel, then she put her hand on something else, it felt metal, she picked it up, it was a torch, she had totally forgotten about this. She flicked the switch on but nothing happened, she hit the bottom hard on the boot of the car swearing as she did. The bulb flickered, and then came on, offering a victorious beam of light wherever it was pointed.
Shelly directed the torch towards the orange light, as if expecting it to part the trees and darkness and offer a view of who, or what, had caused, what seemed to her to be an explosion. She stood with back to car, and a sound drifted on the air, which sounded remarkably like a muffled scream, Shelly stood rigid straining her ears, silence again. Could a car have gone off the road? Crashed into a tree and now it had injured occupants that needed help? Shelly had to go check it out, nobody else was in these parts and, being a nurse, she could at least offer some kind of assistance.
She strode purposefully down the road, pointing the torch, at times ahead, and at times down. She tried to forget about the trees and dark all around her, and what they might be harbouring, and even found herself humming to Amarillo in her head. For a mile she walked, when a sudden feeling that she was being watched took hold. She flicked the torched, left, right, nothing other than trees and grass. She walked again, still nervous of what was about her, an almost sixth sense playing havoc with her mind. The orange light was not far ahead, it appeared to be flickering, like it was caused by a fire, she walked faster, trying to escape from an unknown terror behind, towards an unknown phenomenon ahead.
A bitter cold was now taking hold, even in her warm coat, Shelly was shivering, yet sweating, a lethally cold sweat brought on by her nerves and tension. She stopped, trembling, she let the torch and spanner drop from her hands, she could feel a breath on her neck, warm, if the situation was different, almost soothing, but it was anything but. A hand clasped the face of Shelly, cold, powerful, then a voice in her ear, a sick sadistic voice that the devil would have been proud to produce.
“Don’t even think of screaming b*tch.”
Shelly’s voice was muffled; tears ran down her cheeks and onto the hands of the man holding her. She felt his tongue in her ear, slimy, she whimpered a muffled cry for help, but silence was all around. She felt the mans other hand starting to feel around her thigh, she screamed, trying to fight, kicking and twisting, but he was too strong. He struck her on the back of the head and Shelly’s thoughts drifted to nothing.
The man twisted the unconscious body of Shelly onto it’s back and began to unbuckle her belt, he felt behind him for the torch she had dropped, but found only a hairy foot, turning so his face was in the light, the man beheld a sight that made his pupils dilate and stole his breath, a werewolf, taller than 7ft, a lanky purge of muscle and fur. The man kicked back, stumbling around like a drunken child. The werewolf leapt, and came down with a bone crushing force, the chest of the man shattered, his lungs punctured, blood splattered in every direction.
And there the werewolf stood, watching over the man as he struggled with his last moments of life. The man returned the werewolves glare with his faltering sight, it’s eyes were deep and filled with nothing, finally defeated by the stare the man looked to it’s mouth were warm breathe was producing a mist, almost as if it was breathing fire, it rose it’s sturdy arms and stepped backwards with it’s long powerful legs, one of witch had an arrow protruding from it, golden tip one side, white feather the other, and that was the final sight that befell this human, before he would serve his death sentence in hell.
Copyright of Kevin Martin 2005
Post Edited By Kev2012, Apr/24/2005, 4:28 am
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Apr/11/2005, 8:07 pm
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