Part 48 (1/2)

”Yeah,” Tony admitted thoughtfully, ”I guess so.” Then he thought of something.

”Company's coming,” Death announced quietly. ”Well, well, well.”

This got Tony's attention. ”Who?”

”You'll see.”

”Oh, don't do that man. Tell me. I only just f.u.c.kin fought off a mess of dead-heads!”

That caused Death to reconsider. ”Well, let's just say, I know why they retreated when they had us.”

”Why?”

Though it was still dark in the cabin, Death levelled a look of annoyance in Tony's direction. ”Nag, nag, nag.”

The storm seemed to intensify, and soon Lucy found herself stumbling along the winter road, the snow now up to her knees and getting deeper. Somewhere along the way, Danny had stopped in his tracks until she reached him. Then, without a word, he lifted her up out of the snow. He hunched his shoulders and focused on the thin beam of light that lit the narrow road.

”I can walk,” Lucy managed to get out through chattering teeth.

But Danny did not respond. He fell in behind the others with his bare head bowed against the wind. The wind shrieked and blew ice and snow into their faces, stinging them. Crew swore over and over that if he didn't die of exposure, he was moving permanently to Costa Rica. The Stickman merely peeped up every now and again, wondering how the h.e.l.l the funny looking guy managed to know where they were all going. The man had taken the flashlight away from the Newfoundlander just minutes ago, causing him to jump in fright. There was no word of warning, the flashlight was simply s.n.a.t.c.hed away. There was something terrifying about him. But so far, he had not led them astray, so that was fine by Stick. And as bad as the weather was, Stickman knew they were sheltered a little by the tall black evergreens on either side of them. If the trees weren't there, the wind would slash them all to frozen strips of meat.

But none of them spoke a word to Fear.

They were scared to.

They marched on for a spell of time that none of the men were able to gauge. They wore watches, but the time seemed to be slowed by the cold just as their limbs had been.

Then, the walls of trees on either side of them fell away, and the ground became more open. The wind howled in their faces, no longer held back by the wilderness. Out of the gloom and half buried in snow came a two-storey log cabin.

Stickman smiled weakly, feeling how cold his face had become. Then, his eyes squinted up in numb puzzlement.

The snow surrounding the cabin was stomped down. Stickman could make out tracks coming from all directions and converging on the cabin. It was starting to fill in, again, but it was flattened enough to make Stickman think of a concert crowd mobbing the stage. Then, he saw what looked to be the huge rotting carca.s.s of the biggest bear he had had ever laid eyes on. It was trampled flat, like a rug, but there was no mistaking the shape.

”What da f.u.c.k?” he muttered to himself.

Fear was the first to reach the door. He pounded on its surface. ”Open the f.u.c.k up!”

There was no sound from within, and the Stickman, standing still as he was, slowly gained a greater appreciation as to how cold it was. When he was moving, there wasn't any problem, but now, the air crept inside his coat and clothes and numbed his flesh like bare ice. He remembered a book he had read, ”Death on the Ice”, which told the true story of a crew of Newfoundland seal hunters who lost their lives on an Atlantic ice patch. Separated from their vessels during a snow storm and caught on the open ice with no shelter, seventy eight men had frozen to death during the night. The Stickman could not remember all the details of the tragedy, but he remembered the author's descriptions of men sitting upright on the ice, frozen in place in the morning light. He thought he was beginning to understand how such a thing could happen. His limbs, face and especially his b.a.l.l.s, all felt frost gnawed.

The door opened a crack, and Tony Levin stuck his head out. The flashlight lit up his features in a ghoulish way, and he s.h.i.+ed away from its brightness. ”f.u.c.k off with the light,” he swore, his hands going up.

The Stickman held his breath. This was the man he had hunted for. His mind screamed at him to do something, and yet, he knew his current companions would not allow him his revenge. Taking a breath, the Stickman gave a little contented smile, and imprinted Tony's face in his mind. His time would come. Badger would have his pound of owed flesh.

Fear spoke, ”You gonna let us in, d.i.c.khead?”

Tony's hands dropped. He studied Fear for a moment and grinned.

”Hey, Frank,” Tony abruptly called out. ”f.u.c.khead Freddy just showed up on our doorstep!”

”Tony!” Lucy cried out, clutching herself against the cold and beaming at him. Tony blinked in shock. Lucy was the last person he had expected. The sight of her lifted his spirits like only love could.

”Lucy,” Tony answered, suddenly breathless. ”Wow.”

Fear rolled his eyes. ”Outta my way, f.u.c.k nuts,” he growled, pus.h.i.+ng his way past the Halifax man.

He had no time for budding romances.

It turned his guts.

Chapter 68.

Far beyond the circle of light supplied by the flashlight and hidden by the gusting winds and sheets of snow, Grey Northman stood and watched the group he had followed through the freezing night. He was coated in frost, red eyed, grimacing at the numbness in his limbs and the hatred for his quarry. The wind lashed around him, but he did not waver. He was a rock in its fury. He watched them all enter the dwelling. The door closed. The castle had been sealed. The defenders were within.

”How many of you are there?” Northman hissed, eyes unblinking as the water in them had long since frozen.

From the darkness, a figure shuffled near. The cold air lessened the stink of dead flesh, but there was still enough for Northman to notice. He did not turn to address the creature. There was no need. He had sensed them and sought them out as soon as he had arrived. He knew what they were. And he knew how to control them.

”Many,” came the same voice that had bartered with Tony earlier.

That was good. Northman would need every last one of them for the battle to come. ”Why do you wait?” he wanted to know.

The Speaker for the Dead took its time in answering. ”We... feared...”

This made sense to Grey Northman. The creature talked about the Ent.i.ties.

”I will take care of that,” Northman promised. He had been granted powers to combat such fear.

There was a pause from the Speaker for the Dead. ”You?”

”Yes,” Grey Northman hissed, and allowed the dead to feel a surge of the power that his Lord had given him. The corpse stiffened with the energy. If it could draw breath, the Speaker for the Dead would have choked in shock and awe. In that moment, the undead knew its place. It knew the Northman was its new master. It's general.

”Gather your host 'round,” Northman commanded, the snow swirling about both of them and the winds as loud as horns.

”Do as I say...” the Minion bared his teeth in the storm's fury. ”And I will give you your revenge.”

Chapter 69.

They quickly barricaded the door as best as they could with the wood and nails that remained. It was cold inside, but at least they were out of the freezing wind. They crowded in the s.p.a.ce that was the living room, with the exception of Lucy and Tony, who moved around the sofa that separated the living room from the open kitchen. The new arrivals were quick to size up the interior of the cabin. And the lounging Death on the L-shaped sofa. The Stickman broke the silence when, upon seeing the sprawled out form with an empty bottle of Jack Daniels, stated in a voice still frosty from the cold, ”Oo daf.u.c.k's ee?”

That earned him black looks from both Danny and Crew.

Fear ignored the man. He zeroed in on Death. Lucy, standing next to Tony in the open kitchen, placed both hands on the back of the sofa and gazed down at the missing sailor.