Flesh and Blood

Walking in a winter wonderland...


10
Snow started to fall in the middle of December, but did nothing but sputter flurries until January. Bundled up in heavy furs and a hood, Three Finger went outside one morning to survey the heaviness of the snow. Flakes still fell profusely upon a thick blanket of white. Even the individual tree branches had a tiny layer of snow on them, making everything a world of crystal and powder. Mist escaped the man’s lips as he looked around at his very different looking front yard.
Other than the cold, which could not be helped, Three Finger was coping well with his living conditions. He managed to store enough food in case he would eventually either find nothing while hunting, or was physically unable to go out and hunt, loathe as he was to admit it. Wood had been kept in an old decrepit chicken coop next to the house and the man had thankfully managed to find some smaller clothes for the little one during a trip back to the old cabin.
He had also found tools he forgot to bring with him the first time, as well as some other keepsakes belonging to Saw Tooth or One Eye. Most of One Eye’s possessions had sadly burnt in the explosion, as they were picture books, toys, possessions of pretty girls he had spilled himself over, and other easily destroyable objects. Some things he brought despite their charred quality, because Three Finger could still faintly make out what the thing used to be. The rattle, for instance, was warped and dark now, but it still made noise. One Eye had excitedly found that in the graveyard when the news came of his brother’s sickness and gave the small toy as a gift. Three Finger smiled as he glanced at the rattle next to his brother’s stuffed bear. He picked up the stuffed animal as he looked at it and gazed upon the slightly scorched, fuzzy face. One of its button eyes was missing and had been so ever since its owner lost his own eye. That boy would have been so happy to see how his big brother looked now. The once lithe man glanced at his stomach affectionately with a loving smile which could have terrified anyone else. Putting the toy back down next to the rattle, he put on several layers of clothes before stepping outside again.
Inhaling the crisp air, he trotted to the car – this time a rusty white pickup truck – and his hands were ready to get some killing done. He had brought razor wire with him in his array of weapons and tools and was ready to lay out a trap which never failed. Driving downhill for about ten miles, though he had difficulty because of the snow which lingered on the dirt road, the hunter stopped and walked the rest of the way until he found a spot which would most likely be in use by some young whore or male looking for adventure and fun. Another string was set out in a boundary around the area in case someone decided to run away. Three Finger allowed himself a loud laugh as he imagined their looks of terror when he would put his axe through their heads.
Only two hours after putting up the wire and waiting in the powdery woods, the trap caught something. Three Finger snickered at the sound of tires blowing, the skidding halt and crash against a stump muffled by the snow. He could have sworn he heard some suffocated screams and curses along the way as well.
Peering out from his hiding place, he saw his prey clearly past the falling snow. Two again. One was old, and least of thirty-five winters, and was inspecting the damage of the tires, cursing quietly but sternly. The other must have been his son, as he was much younger, barely past thirteen.
He loved the young ones. They made such heavenly noise!
Crouching in the slush, Three Finger removed a crossbow from his bag of weaponry and readied an arrow. Saw Tooth was the skillful one when it came to marksmanship, but the skinny man had been practicing since the leader’s death. He had to make up for what he lacked in the passing time, and he was sure now that he could actually hit something with an arrow or bullet. Aiming, he waited for the man to turn his back to him.
He whooped in joy as his arrow hit the male’s thigh. His prey fell forward, screaming, and struggled to stand again, holding the wound, the arrow refusing to budge from it. The boy ran from the car and froze at the sight of his father writhing in red snow. Some shouting came from both of them, the father’s more urgent. The father knew what was going on, and wanted the young man to escape whatever was attacking them. Hesitating, the boy looked up and saw what approached them, with uneven teeth bared in a hungry grin and another arrow ready. So the prey ran.
However, Three Finger’s quarry did not get far. He shrieked in terror and pain when he tripped over the wire hidden in the snow between a pair of trees. Blood now dotted the snow as the young man clumsily got up, but Three Finger kept a consistent, slow pace, his confidence that he would catch his prey unnerving the boy. Now leaving scarlet footprints, the boy screamed as he ran for his life, looking behind him to see the creature continue toward him.
The young male turned to look ahead of him as he ran and suddenly came to a halt. What had stopped him was a line of barbed wire suspended from trees and tightly set at four feet from the ground. But the boy had not seen them. He now only stood because the wire held him by the neck.
Three Finger giggled as he approached the gruesome decoration. He carefully removed the wire from his quarry’s mangled throat and dragged the body by the coat. How pretty the snow looked when red water hit it… especially the way the blood fanned out whenever a fresh wound was made.
The father had seen the whole thing from his spot next to the car, and he screamed again. Tears were falling down his face as he saw his son’s body come closer and closer. He screamed more loudly as the child was thrown into the back of their car, wailing and sobbing in the pink snow. Whoever this evil shit head was, it was going to pay for what it did to the man’s little boy. Creeping on his belly in the bloody slush, he moaned and cursed at their attacker as it approached him, looking down and grinning that sickening grin. All that the father managed to do was grab the creature’s ankle with a shaking hand. He was hit in the temple by the handle of the crossbow and fell into darkness.