Nick Cutter - Little Heaven

“Not quite,” he said, pointing at his left ankle. His boot was off. His flesh was swollen at his ankle, the sock stretched out like a gruesome balloon.

“You bust it?” she asked.

“I don’t believe so,” Eb said. “Just a bad sprain.”

Minerva said, “Lucky you. I’d have left you in here otherwise.”

Ebenezer’s smile was as gruesome as his ankle. “You’re a peach.”

Minerva stood. The blood rushed to her head. She swooned, steadying herself against the pit wall. It was then that they all heard a voice from somewhere above.

“Who’s in there?”

A man’s voice. Gruff and a little worried, but not threatening.

Minerva still had one of her Colts. Micah had his pistol, too. But what were they going to do—shoot at the only person who might be able to get them out?

“Hikers,” Micah called up. “Four of us.”

“I see a gun on the ground up here.”

“That would be mine,” said Eb. “I dropped it when the ground opened up and ate me. I’m sure you understand.”

“The rest of you armed?” the same voice asked.

“Pistols,” Micah said.

“Why are you hiking with pistols?”

“The same reason you must have dug this pit,” Minerva called back.

The man said, “Toss them out.”

Micah launched his Tokarev over the edge of the pit. Someone approached above. A shadow fell over the lip of the pit; then it withdrew.

“Never seen a gun like this before,” the man called out. “You do some work to it?”

“It is stock,” Micah lied.

The man said, “I don’t know about that.”

Minerva heaved her gun out next. “You going to help us or what?” she said.

“Considering it,” the man said.

Minerva clenched her teeth. Her head hived with pain. That she would be left at the mercy of these Bible suckers—who else could they be?—was infuriating. She wanted to quote scripture at them, something about the milk of human kindness or whatever, but she had never memorized a single verse.

In time a rope was lowered over the side of the pit.

“Mind your p’s and q’s. We are armed,” the man said.

THE COMPOUNDknown as Little Heaven was carved back against the encircling trees. The perimeter fence bowed under the menacing weight of the woods. The fence was fifteen feet tall and topped with coils of razor wire. Each supporting rib had been fashioned from a delimbed pine tree, with chain-link fence strung between them. It gave the place the look of a backwoods prison. Upon her approach, Minerva could see the roof of a long, warehouse-like structure, and the smaller peaks of the outbuildings scattered around it. She was half shocked to not spot guard towers manned by shotgun-toting Jesus freaks.

It had been a two-mile hike from the pit to Little Heaven. By the time they arrived, they had learned the names of the men who had hauled them out: Otis Langtree and Charlie Fairweather. They seemed the same age, mid- to late-thirties. Otis was the bigger of the two, but both looked like they could use a good meal. Their faces were drawn, their eyes tunneled too far into their skulls.

Minerva learned a bit more about the men besides their names, as they were both happy to talk. Charlie had been a member of the flock for about three years; Otis, much longer. Otis was single; Charlie had a wife and a son, Ben. Charlie had worked at a box factory before coming here. Otis did not speak much of his history. They had both made the decision to join their leader, giving their life savings over to the erection and continuance of Little Heaven.

They both carried .30-30 rifles. Charlie had a Ruger pistol in a holster, too.

“Sorry you fell in,” Otis said. “We dug the pit for animals.”

Ebenezer was slung between Micah and Ellen; he limped painfully along. Minerva refused to help him.

“What did you dig it to catch, pray tell?” Eb asked.

“Bear?” said Otis. “Wolves? Something’s been carrying off our dogs. We used to have five or six. Then a month or so back they started to go missing. Squirmed under gaps in the fence, never came back. Got eaten, we figured.”

“Or ran into something bigger and hungrier than they were,” Charlie said.

“You do see the odd thing out there at night,” Otis said. “Just shapes in the trees. A flash and flicker. What’s born wild stays wild despite us being here, you know? All God’s creatures.”

Charlie had spat in the dirt when he heard that. Minerva noticed he had a way of spitting that conveyed total disdain.

“Dogs are one thing,” Otis went on, “but we got kids about, too. Not that they’re foolish enough to scramble under the fence, especially come nightfall, but…”

“We dug the pit ten feet deep.” Charlie hitched up his pants, which were swimming around his hips. “We hit a seam of caliche at eight feet. After that it was hard slogging. Busted a few shovels. Our hands had blisters on top of blisters.”

Otis said, “Ten feet—what’s going to get out of that?”

Charlie said, “Well, something did. We come back one morning to find the top brush all busted. But the pit was empty.”

“Maybe it didn’t fall in,” Minerva said. “What if it just kind of carried over the top, like over thin ice as it’s breaking?”

Otis said, “No, it was in there.”

“The bottom of the pit was all torn up,” Charlie told her. “Claw marks dug deep into the clay. A lot of them, too. Like they were put there by an animal made entirely of claws.”

“And teeth,” said Otis.

“Yeah, teeth, too,” Charlie said.

“Bear?” said Micah.

Charlie shrugged. “Could only be. But they aren’t supposed to be that size in this state. You got browns, blacks. They can be ornery, yeah, but not too big.”

“Could be a Kodiak roamed over from California,” Otis hazarded. “A rogue.”

“Anyway, we dug the pit deeper.” Charlie spat again. “Another five feet.”

Otis said, “And covered it over same as before. A few days later we check and see the cover’s broken again.” Otis shook his head. “We creep up and—”

“Empty as a politician’s smile,” said Charlie.

Otis said, “At fifteen feet . And we spotted something else strange, too.”

“What was that?” said Minerva.

Otis swallowed heavily. “There were sticks jammed into the side of the pit. The sticks we’d laid across the top, yeah? Stabbed into the dirt all the way up. It was like whatever had been inside used them as hand-holds, right? To climb out.”

“What animal would have the sense to do that?” Ellen asked. “Or the dexterity?”

“No animal on earth,” Minerva said.

UPON THEIR ARRIVALat Little Heaven, Otis and Charlie led them past a few pickups and dirt bikes to the wrought iron gate. Each half of the gate was ten feet wide and nearly twenty feet high. What a hassle it would’ve been, hauling that damn thing out into the sticks. A golden letter L was inset on one side. On the other side, H .

It was unlocked by a woman in overalls. She did not introduce herself or speak to Otis and Charlie. Her face had the same winnowed aspect as the men’s. Minerva found it unnerving. She pictured carnivorous roots anchored to the pads of everyone’s feet, slowly sucking the life out of them.

The grounds of the compound were uncluttered. A parade square sat in the center. There were bunkhouses and storage sheds. A tiny playground. Minerva spotted a strip of flypaper dangling from a strut of an open toolshed. Not a single insect—fly or spider or midge—was gummed to the sticky coil.

A row of outhouses sat behind the fence on the easternmost edge of the compound. They sat quite close to the woods. Minerva wondered how many of these people would risk a late-night piss, what with their dogs going missing left and right.