Mark Lukens - Ancient Enemy

“We just woke up,” Trevor told Needles. “Frank’s not here.”

“What do you mean, Frank’s not here? Where is he?”

“We don’t know.”

Cole grabbed his boots and walked to the dining room table. He pulled a chair out, the chair’s legs scraped at the floor. He plopped down and put his boots on, lacing them up. He had seen something when he’d opened the front door all the way. At first he wasn’t sure if he’d really seen it, but he was pretty sure he had.

“Where are you going?” Trevor asked Cole.

“Outside to look for Frank.” He looked at the others. “Alone,” he said.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Cole stood at the edge of the porch, at the edge of the steps that disappeared down into the snow. And there they were, just what he’d thought he’d seen when he’d opened the door earlier.

Footprints.

There was a set of footprints in the snow that led from the front porch steps out towards the line of dark trees in the distance. Cole stared down at the footprints, trying to understand why Frank would walk out of the cabin in the middle of the night to the woods. Did he see something out here? Hear something?

Cole pulled his nine millimeter out of his coat pocket. He always wore thin leather gloves on bank jobs, they allowed him to grip his pistol better; they were almost like a second skin covering his own hands. His hands were cold now, but he sacrificed the cold for the increased sensitivity and mobility in his hands. His index finger caressed the trigger lightly as he stared out at the line of trees. There was a ribbon of deep blue sky right above the trees where the sky was beginning to lighten up with the sunrise. But there was also a mass of dark clouds building up in the sky in the other direction, the next storm in this series of snowstorms; right now they were in the calm of the storm, like an eye of a hurricane, a moment of peace and calm.

His boots crunched in the snow as he stepped down into it. He stood in the snow for a moment, which came up to his mid-calf. He stared down at the set of footprints. A man’s footprints. Regular gait. Not like this man was running. Like he was walking; a leisurely midnight stroll through the freezing snow to the dark woods.

Cole followed the footprints, staying three feet away from the footprints, careful not to disturb them. His eyes darted around as he followed the trail of footprints to the trees; there didn’t seem to be anything threatening out here that he could see, but a hard knot of fear sat in his stomach like a stone.

Inside the cabin, Stella got up and walked towards the kitchen.

Jose watched her in shock. “Hey, lady! What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Stella stopped, she looked right at Jose, but she showed no fear of him. “David needs something to eat.”

“Did we say you could just get up and walk around?” Jose spat out.

“I didn’t ask,” she said.

Jose was about to explode with rage, but Trevor’s words grabbed his attention. “Leave her alone, Jose.”

“What?” Jose said, turning on Trevor now.

“I said leave her alone. She’s not our prisoner.”

“You aint my boss.”

Stella ignored the two men and continued to the kitchen. She wasn’t going to wait around for them to quit arguing with each other – that might take forever. She looked through the cabinets.

Trevor turned his attention away from Jose and he watched Stella. “What are you making him for breakfast?”

Stella didn’t look at Trevor as she spoke to him. “There are some packets of oatmeal up here.”

“How about some coffee for us?”

Now Stella looked right at Trevor who was giving her his sweetest smile, she was sure it worked on most of the ladies. “Sure,” she finally answered in a sarcastically sweet voice. “Coffee coming right up.”

She pulled out some instant coffee from the cabinet along with the packets of oatmeal.

Oatmeal would be good for her and David, Stella thought to herself as she boiled water on the stove for the oatmeal and started the coffee maker. They were going to need all of their strength for what was coming soon.

Outside, Cole followed the footprints. He was almost to the woods now. He glanced back at the cabin, which was at least fifty yards away. He looked back down at the footprints and followed them for a few more feet – then he stopped dead in his tracks.

He stared down at the snow in disbelief, having trouble believing what he was seeing.

A crackling noise deep in the woods startled him. He brought his pistol up and aimed it into the dark woods, his hand shaking slightly, his breath pluming up in front of his face from his heavy breathing.

Nothing moving in the trees that he could see.

He turned and ran back to the cabin. Even in his panic, he made sure that he stayed well away from the set of footprints in the snow. He didn’t want to disturb them at all – he wanted the others to see what he had just seen.

The oatmeal was ready. Stella poured some in a bowl for David. She looked at David on the couch. “David, I made you some oatmeal.”

David stared at her, but he made no move to get up. His long hair was a little rumpled from a night’s sleep.

“Come on, David,” she said. “You need to eat something.”

Trevor got up from his sleeping bag and came to the dining room table. He looked down at the bowls of oatmeal sitting on the table. He looked at Stella with a half-smile on his face. “What kind of oatmeal is it?”

“Apples and cinnamon.”

“My favorite.”

Stella looked past Trevor at David who still wasn’t moving.

Trevor sat down and took a big bite of his oatmeal. “How’s that coffee coming?” he asked around a mouthful of oatmeal.

Stella sighed, but she poured cups of coffee and set them on the dining room table. Trevor took a sip. “Perfect,” he said.

Jose sat on his blankets and laced his boots up. “I can’t believe you’re eating that,” he told Trevor. “How do you know she didn’t poison that stuff?”

Trevor stopped eating suddenly, his mouth hung open as he made choking noises, his eyes bulging. He dropped the spoon back into the bowl and grabbed at his throat, clawing at it, some of the oatmeal dribbling out of the corner of his mouth.

Jose stood up and shook his head. “You’re really an asshole, you know that?”

Trevor erupted in a fit of laughter.

Even David cracked a smile.

Stella smiled, too. Her eyes met David’s eyes for a moment and she grabbed a bowl of oatmeal for David and brought it to him.

Needles didn’t look at anyone or join in the conversation. He sat curled up in the recliner, rubbing his crucifix with his fingers and staring at the front door.

Jose grabbed his coat and slipped it on. He fished his gloves and hat out of the pockets of the coat.

“Where are you going?” Trevor asked around another mouthful of food.

“Going to help Cole look for Frank.”

“Who said you could do that?”

“I never asked for permission, did I?”

“He said he wanted to go alone,” Trevor reminded him.

“I don’t give a shit. Just because Frank isn’t here right now doesn’t make you and your brother the boss.”

Jose turned away from Trevor and took a few steps towards the front door, but then he stopped as the door flew open and Cole rushed inside.

Cole slammed the door shut and twisted the deadbolt lock. He backed away from the door, and then he turned and looked at the others with wide eyes of shock.

“What’s wrong?” Jose asked. “You find Frank?”

“He’s gone,” Cole said in a hoarse voice.

“Yeah, no shit,” Jose said. “We can see that.”