An Occurrence in Crazy Bear Valley by Brian Keene Read Free Book Online Page A

fell. “I tossed the carcass out into the river.”
    “What the hell did you do that for?”
    “I guess I just wasn’t thinking, boss.”
    Morgan shook his head. “I guess not.”
    “A-anyway, you think that will be enough rocks?”
    “We’ll need more than that, but I’ll give you a hand carrying more. Should go quicker with four of us doing it.”
    Stephens and Clara stared at each other in disbelief.
    “Oh, don’t look so goddamned surprised,” Morgan said. “The longer the two of you stand there, the longer it will take to secure this goddamn bunkhouse. Now come on.”
    As they walked toward the water, a distant, muffled shot echoed out of the forest.
    “Gunderson,” Morgan said.
    “Sounds like he got something,” Stephens replied.
    They paused, waiting for more shots, but the woods were quiet.
    “Guess we’ll find out soon enough,” Clara said.
    They made several more trips to the river and the pile of stones grew. By then, Johnson and Parker had begun to drag logs over to the cabin. When Gunderson returned from the forest with a small deer slung over his broad shoulders, Morgan called for a break. The others gratefully collapsed to the ground, breathing heavy and groaning from their labors. Gunderson dropped the deer near the porch. It had already been field dressed—the belly slit open and the white and brown fur matted with sticky blood. More fluid oozed from the empty cavity. Flies buzzed around the carcass.
    “Got us something to eat,” he said. “Found a well-used deer path and waited for a spell. Then this little spike buck come strolling along and obliged me. Looks like ya’ll have been busy, too.”
    Morgan nodded. “See anything while you were out there?”
    “A few more of those queer footprints, but I couldn’t read them well enough to learn anything else. I’ll tell you one thing, though—that forest is spooky. It’s not like the other places I’ve been, and I’ve been to a lot. I don’t like it. It’s too quiet.”
    “Awfully noisy here,” Parker pointed out. “I’ve been hearing birds and such all damn morning. Giving me a headache.”
    “Maybe so,” Gunderson said, “but it’s dead quiet under them trees. Feels like the forest is staring at you. I was damned glad to come across this deer.”
    “Good job,” Morgan replied. Then he turned to the others. “Clara. Crystal. Get this thing cut up and cooked. Come sundown, I don’t want any cooking fires—nothing that will attract attention. So do it up now and we’ll have venison for lunch and supper.”
    The men cheered this news. Johnson even did an impromptu jig, dancing and leaping in a circle while the others clapped and laughed. Soon after, their cheers turned to groans again as Morgan ordered them back to work.
    “There’s only two ways into that shack,” he told them. “The front door and the window. We’re going to reinforce the walls as best we can, using the stones and the logs and whatever else we can find. There are places in those walls made out of nothing but sod and rocks. One of these critters could tear through that pretty easy. Hell, a man could too, for that matter. So we’ve got to take extra care to block those good. Then we’ll all go inside, and bar the door. We’ll use logs for that, too. We’re going to keep the window open for as long as possible. That way we can shoot at them if they come. But if things go bad, I reckon we can flip some of those beds on their side and block the window with them.”
    “What about the roof?” Gunderson asked.
    “I don’t know,” Morgan admitted. “That’s the one part I can’t figure out. The tree jockeys used heavy timbers for it, and lashed them together with thick rope. They nailed them down good and all, but I don’t know if it’s enough, and I can’t see of any way to reinforce what’s there. Ain’t nothing on top of the timbers but tar. Any of you got an idea as to how we could make it stronger?”
    They shook their heads.