Tim Curran - Skull Moon

"What does this have to do with anything?" Perry wanted to know.

"I'm instructing you, Doctor, on the new religion which is actually quite old. These are things you'd do well to remember." Claussen touched a finger to his chin. "Now, at present, our lawmen are hunting a beast, a creature that is slaughtering people. But this creature is not new, in fact it is very old. It is a direct descendent of these Lords, the Kings of the Hunt. You see, in ancient times, the Indians worshipped these creatures. They were gods. They made sacrifice to them, offered them virgins to breed with. Eventually the Lords died out-oh, due perhaps to changes in climate, destruction of their habitats-but a few survived."

"You're insane," Perry told him.

"On the contrary, I'm probably the only sane person left," Claussen said, stabbing a finger at the doctor. "I told you once of the Skull Society. Do you remember? Well, this Skull Society is an ancient cult. At one time they were priests of the order that selected sacrifice to the Lords. They were the law-makers, holy men of a cult of barbarity."

Perry sighed. "Are you trying to tell me one of these… things still exists?"

Claussen massaged his temples wearily. "Yes, exactly. Most of these Lords, these gods of old died out long ago, but a few survived into modern times. Certain tribes believe until quite recently."

"Stop it, Reverend. You-"

Claussen silenced him with a look, lost in his new religion. "Do you know what are meant by the 'dog days,' Doctor?"

Perry nodded. The dog days referred to the pre-horse period of the tribes when all activities were accomplished with canine assistance: camp moving, hunting, etc.

"Many of the tribes, our own Blackfeet included, believe a few of these Lords survived into the dog days-which, would mean within the last four or five-hundred years or so."

Perry's back was aching fiercely now. Claussen explained all this with such cold, compelling logic, it was hard not to believe him. But it was fantasy. Had to be. Perry was something of a naturalist himself and he didn't doubt for a moment that the earth had been populated at various times by bizarre animalistic peoples and nameless beasts. But they were all extinct now. To accept, even for a moment, that some primordial horror had survived…

"Nonsense," Perry maintained.

"Is it?"

"Of course. Even if there were such creatures, they are long gone."

"Not at all, Doctor," Claussen said as if he were addressing a child. "One has survived."

Perry just stared at him. It was insanity; there could be no shred of underlying truth in this.

"Read the books, Doctor. It's all there. What we know comes from legend, tribal memory, but legend is the only glimpse we have of those ancient times and ways."

"You need rest," Perry said weakly.

"The Blackfeet call him Skullhead."

"Why?"

"Because his head is like a huge skull. The Skullheads, you see, wear their skeletons on the outsides of their bodies like insects. Throwbacks to prehistory, Doctor. Lords of the High Wood. Beings whose savage appetites can never be satisfied." Claussen grinned ghoulishly.

It was all madness; Perry did not want to hear it. Claussen had kept his left hand stuffed inside his coat the entire time. Perry had not wanted to ask why. But now he did.

"That doesn't concern you. When the time comes…"

Perry stood up and began walking to the door, silently.

"He's here to feed on us," Claussen gloated. "To destroy all we've built, to take back his lands. And to breed. Blood is his wine…give unto him…"

Perry said, "The church has been wrecked. Claussen is out of his mind."

Longtree heard him out and did not like any of it. Lauters had assaulted the man and he had now gone quietly-or not so quietly-out of his mind. That much was true. Lauters needed to be put under arrest.

Perry just shook his head. "He's raving, Marshal. He believes this creature is some sort of god and he is its priest."

"Did he call it by name?"

"Yes." Perry swallowed. "Lord of the High Wood. Skullhead."

Longtree paled. "Maybe he's not as crazy as you think."

Perry just stared at him. "What do you mean by that?"

So Longtree told him everything he knew. Told him in detail even though he didn't really have the time to do much explaining. But it was important that the doctor know.

"Like some sort of ogre," was all Perry said. "A monster from a story book."

"Yes," Longtree admitted. "But far worse."

An hour later, the carnage at Sheriff Lauters' farm was discovered. And as the fates would have it, Lauters discovered it himself. He was sober when he rode out to the farm, his hurt arm bandaged and aching. He knew something was wrong when he'd rounded the little hill that overlooked his spread.

I had a funny feeling, he said later, a tickle at the back of my neck…

He'd paused up there on the hill. What he saw was a cold, unnatural stillness enveloping the grounds. The boys weren't out tending to things. No chickens squawked, no pigs squealed, no horses whinnied. No trail of smoke issued from the chimney.

What he found was slaughter. His family murdered.

Longtree could pretty much put together the rest. Lauters had rode into town and informed everyone, before collapsing with hysteria. He was now at Dr. Perry's, sedated. Perry said he'd sleep until evening.

Longtree toured the crime scene, his stomach in his throat. The remains of Lauters' eldest son, Chauncey, were discovered in the barn, mixed in with those of several pigs, two horses, and a blizzard of feathers from the chickens. In the house, a body ripped like a bag of meat and cast about was thought to be what was left of Lauters' wife, Abigail. Upstairs, were the headless corpse of Abigail's cousin Virginia Krebs and a collection of pitted bones thought to belong to Jimmy Lauters. The youngest boy, Jo Jo, was nowhere to be found. The window to the children's room was broken outward, so it was thought the fiend leapt out with the three-year old in tow. Bloody, inhuman footprints nearly covered by snow wound out into the distance.

Alden Bowes was, for all purposes, the sheriff of Wolf Creek now. He knew Lauters' family well and none of it was easy for him. But he had a job to do and do it he would.

"I can't believe this," Bowes kept saying. "What kind of animal does something like this?"

"No animal," Longtree said.

Bowes narrowed his eyes. "These people had nothing to do with that lynching, Marshal. I think… this puts your little theory to bed."

Longtree frowned. "Not at all, Deputy. It couldn't find him, so it went for his family."

Bowes paled and walked off, joining Spence and Perry as they examined the atrocities in the barn. Longtree didn't blame the man for how he felt; the other victims were bad enough, but this…this was obscene. No other word could be applied here. Women and children. Longtree had seen plenty of killing in his time. Enough to turn most men sick with the awful potential of their fellow man. But never had he experienced the aftermath of such gruesome savagery before.

Longtree joined the others in the barn.

Perry was examining a human femur stripped of flesh. There were huge indentations in it. "Teeth marks," he said in disgust. "This thing must be incredibly powerful. I've seen the leftovers from a grizzly's meal…but never anything like this…" He coughed then, fighting against tears.

"It must be insane," Wynona Spence said, "this beast. Even a pack of hungry wolves stop…they fill themselves and let the scavengers have the rest. But this thing…by God, it eats and eats. It kills for pleasure, for the fun of it."

Longtree lit a hand-rolled. "You better get a posse together, Deputy. You get some men and tracking dogs on that thing's trail, you might find it. Trail's still fresh."