The Boatman, page 18
26
The Horns | Sawyer
My horns won’t stop growing.
I swayed on Maggie’s back, the trail offering a rhythm that barely touched the dread swelling beneath my skin. I pressed a finger to one of the nubs on my forehead. Blunt, rounded, almost an inch off the bone now.
My hanged body flashed before me, the jackrabbit skull jammed on my stumped neck. It felt surreal at the time.
Now it pulled at me. A warning. Or worse… mockery.
Bring me the crooked ones.
The line echoed in my head like a distant gunshot. A loud, final echo. I still didn’t know who, or what, the crooked ones were. I still felt its eyes burning into me. That horned figure from the tunnels… it watched from every treetop. I had to move. To figure it out.
Desiree could help. Maybe even Boone.
But I couldn’t go to Boone. He wanted to hang me. Did hang me. At least in my dream it felt so real. I rubbed the still sore bruise under my jaw where the rope had dug in. It burned when my fingers brushed it, rough and pulled up like a skinned knee. If it was a dream I wouldn’t have the mark. If it was real, I’d be dead.
My head spun trying to figure it out. Maggie rolled her lips, listening to my thoughts. “I’m okay, Mags,” I reassured. Neither of us believed it. “I’m just glad you’re back.”
She whinnied in response but it sounded more accusatory than glad. I patted her neck anyways, giving her a much needed ear scratching. My head throbbed and skin ached; I’d never felt bone grow before. At least not since childhood, and definitely not like this. It creaked under the skin, a boat dragged against a dock. The feeling sent chills over my flesh. Made my teeth itch.
Maggie hesitated as we neared the ridge, her ears twitching toward something I couldn’t see. I leaned forward, squinting past the trees, expecting the glow. The violet veins. The bone-white face of the jackrabbit god.
But there was only wind, rustling through the leaves.
“The crooked ones.”
The voice again, creeping up my spine. I shivered, the invasive voice seemed to come from my molars, from the horns growing from my head. Maggie stomped, rearing up. I held on tight, not daring correct her. She knew. I didn’t know what she knew, but in my current state?
I’d trust Mags with my life.
“What is it, girl?” She calmed, shaking her head in disgust. “We don’t have to go over the ridge. We can go around.”
I tugged the reins to the left. Seemed to be easier terrain over there, if anything else. I clicked my tongue, digging my heels in and she was off again.
Released the reins and I let her get us back to Potter’s Field. She knew where to go. We trotted, my mind drifting.
Just a couple days ago I was shaking down Jessup for whiskey. Now I was tasked by some otherworldly specter to find and fetch ‘the crooked ones’. I huffed, trying to laugh, but couldn’t find it in me. It was all too absurd.
The trickle of water grew; we were getting close to the river.
“Good girl,” I said, patting her neck again. We cleared the woods and out into the shining bright of day. I pulled my hat lower, trying to cover my new adornments. They wouldn’t be hidden completely, but rolling back into town I needed to keep my head down.
We trotted along the stream for a bit. The voice still tickled the inside of my skull. It wasn’t saying anything, at least explicitly. But still, it was there, a mouth open and primed to speak. What it said still lingered, despite my best efforts to look at the trees, the stream… anything. Couldn’t shake it.
Light crested the trees in the distance, blinding me further. The pain in my head made it hard to focus.
“Sawyer?”
A familiar voice. I whipped my head, pulling on the reins to stop Maggie.
Desiree stumbled out of the treeline to my right. Soaked head to toe but looked to be okay otherwise.
“Desiree!” I called out. “I’m so glad you’re—”
“What the fuck?” She stumbled backward, hand flying up to cover her mouth. I reached up, trying to cover my horns but it was too late.
“Stop, it’s okay!”
“No, Sawyer. Your—your skin…”
My skin?
“What?” I touched my forehead, expecting to feel something. Nothing out of the ordinary.
“It’s… you’ve got those lines. Like the twins.”
The twins flashed before me, their skin striped in black veins. A rock formed in my gut. Was I turning into them?
“I—I feel fine.”
She stepped forward, staring at my head like one of those freaks at the circus, gawked at by the people, horrified and amused by my deformities. Her face drained of its flush, lids widening at the state of me.
“What happened?”
I swallowed hard. “In the caves, I—” I hesitated. Didn’t know what to say. Maggie tensed under me and that itch in my head grew stronger. I couldn’t deflect. She’d already seen, and if I don’t explain, there was a very good chance she’d turn tail and tell someone.
And I could let that happen.
“Something happened to me,” I continued. “I saw someone or… something. It did something to me. It needs me to help it.”
She clenched her fist but didn’t look away.
“What does it need?” Her voice came out low, almost a whisper. She didn’t want to know.
The words caught on my tongue. My vision swam, the echo of the jackrabbit’s words ringing in my ears.
“The crooked ones,” I blurted, taking the moment while I could. My horns lit up with static, groaning in my head as it dilated the skin on my forehead further. Doubling over on Maggie, I groaned, pressing my palms to my head as I listened to the cracking and slow creak of them growing.
“What’s happening?” She ran over to me, placing a hand on my leg as I tensed every muscle, praying for the pain and the pressure to stop. “Sawyer?”
They pushed against my palm, jutting out another inch before coming to a rest. The static fuzz faded, leaving only the sore stretch of skin on my head. They burned, a low, constant warmth radiating across my scalp.
I sat up, unfocused eyes landing on her. Desiree’s mouth dropped open, shocked by the horns. I could see them now. On the edge of my top periphery, yellowish and threaded with that same black veining.
“The crooked ones,” I repeated, desperation wrapping up my body. I waited a moment to see if I’d be punished again. Nothing happened. “What does that mean?”
“I don’t know,” she said, sounding flustered. “Criminals? Why, who needs them?”
“The rabbit-man,” I laughed, but it came out cracked. Desperate. Her features dropped, a stoned seriousness washing over her face. “Have you seen him, too?”
She nodded.
“The girls?” I asked. I don’t know why, but knowing someone else was seeing them made me feel better. Less alone.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Let’s get out of here. Boone is still looking for you. And in your—” she paused, pointing at my head. “—condition, I think you don’t want that to happen.”
I was exposed. Unusually aware of my state, on top of whatever was in my head, jamming elbows around to make room for itself. Nodding, I patted behind me, signaling for her to jump up. Held out a hand. She eyed it, hesitant, before brushing it away and jumping up, pulling herself over.
I looked over my shoulder, flashing a fake smile that I’m sure looked more unstable than anything.
Click.
Blood ran cold. I knew that sound. Desiree’s eyes snapped wide, looking behind me. Maggie stomped the ground, braying.
“Get off the horse. Real slow like.”
I knew that voice. The sheriff.
Fuck.
“Alex,” Desiree said. “Please, lower the gun.”
“Absolutely not,” he responded.
I looked at him, nearly straight down the barrel. Smiled at him, wondering if my usual charm would work here.
“Alex Yellow? That’s your name? It’s nice to see you, I—”
His eyes widened, mouth turning down and open. “What the fuck?”
Shocked by the sight of me, he flinched—
Bang.
The shot winged me, throwing me off Maggie. She stomped around, screaming, nearly crushing my arm as I slammed into the ground. My lungs emptied—seized—as I rolled on in the dirt. Heat radiated up my shoulder, the bullet lodged inside and cooking the meat.
Rolled to my knees, trying to suck in some air. I managed to get a little in, chest wheezing but still starved for breath. The sheriff trained the gun on me, stepping up to close the distance.
“Yellow, stop!” Desiree yelled. The sheriff looked away, meeting her eyes. He looked betrayed that she would even consider stopping him from putting me down like a dog.
“Do you not see him?” he asked, thrusting the gun at me. “He’s got fuckin’ horns growing out of his head. He’s already dead—”
He’s going to kill you, Sawyer. Stop him.
The voice boomed in my head, vibrating my bones. I charged, crouching low, closing the distance before Yellow had a chance to react. He let off another shot but I’d already connected, sending it wide.
Dirt exploded up from the shot as I drove my shoulder into his gut, tackling him.
We slammed into the ground, the hollow thump of his body sounding as my horns dug into the dirt next to him.
“Get the fuck off me,” he shouted, dropping elbows into my back and head. My shoulder screamed, soaking my shirt and leaking through onto Yellow.
“Get off him!” Desiree yelled. I sat up, grabbing his arms and pinning them to the ground. He struggled, thrashing underneath me.
Desiree’s hand landed on my shoulder. I spun, lashing out, throwing her off me and onto the ground. Gave Yellow enough room to slam his fist into my jaw.
The blow snapped my head back, the muscles in my jaw seizing up. The world around me blurred and drained of color.
He rolled, tossing me to the side. I landed on my shoulder, pain lighting up white dots behind my eyes. I gasped, rolling, looking for him. He was crawling. Reaching.
For his gun.
My head spun. I didn’t think.
Find the crooked ones.
Scrambled to find my footing and dropped low, driving forward. The horns took aim of their own.
Pop.
My horns slipped in, parting flesh and prying open his lower ribs. Yellow roared, primal rage and fear and pain all tangled in one.
Blood poured over my face, warm and sticky. Kept pushing, feet digging troughs in the soft ground. My whole body shook as the horns drove deeper.
Stood up, pulling my head to the side. They tore out, ribbons of flesh and gore dripping off of them.
I stumbled, falling on my ass and crawled backward. Tried blinking through the red sheeting my vision. My shoulder screamed but it was far away, barely mine.
All I could do was stare at him as he gasped for breath, stomach sucking inward in unnatural jerks. Vertigo spun my head and churned my gut.
“Alex!” Desiree screamed, barely pulling me back into lucidity. Her voice cracked as she fell to her knees beside him. She pressed her hands to his gushing wound, instantly painting them red. “Alex, please stay with me.”
He sputtered, coughing up red. Blood sprayed across her cheek, speckled her face.
I looked down at my hands. Covered in dirt, in blood, in something darker. I was weightless, watching myself from a thousand feet up.
“Sawyer,” she choked, looking up at me. Just my name. But in it was everything: shock, anger.
Fear.
I didn’t move. Couldn’t move.
My horns pulsed with heat. Dripped.
He was going to kill you, it boomed again. You need to hurry.
Desiree sobbed over Yellow’s body. Her chest racked with grief, trembles shaking every inch of her skin. The sheriff gurgled. Went still.
Numbness swallowed what was left of my guilt.
Desiree scrambled on all fours, diving for the gun. She snatched it out of the grass, sitting up, and pointed it at me.
“He was going to kill me.” I’d meant to plead, but it came out flat. Resigned. Maybe I really didn’t care if she put a hole in my skull. Put an end to this.
“You didn’t need to kill him!” Her voice wavered. The gun pulled at her wrist, shaking in her grip. “Boone was right about you.”
I stared down the barrel, wondering if I could see the bullet that would kill me.
“You’re a monster.”
I waited. Hoping the demon had an answer. A command.
Nothing came.
She wiped the tears from her cheeks with a bloody hand, smearing it down and over her lips. She wagged the gun at me, nodding in the direction of Potter’s Field.
“Walk. Now.”
27
Too Far Gone | Desiree
“Ten steps ahead of me.”
He slowed, turning his chin to the sky and let out a huff more dramatic than his horse. He was annoyed with me over the whole situation. Kills the fuckin’ sheriff and thinks I’m the one who needs to ease up?
“You don’t need to do this,” Sawyer said. He gripped his left shoulder, blood running down his arm and dripping off his fingers. I hope it hurt.
“Shut up.”
“Boone’s gonna hang me.” He looked over his shoulder at me. I waggled the gun at him.
“As he should.”
Maggie brayed behind me, keeping up with us despite not being led. I kept glancing at her, thinking she would trample me any moment. The way she stared unnerved me. A horse, but her eyes had this… murderous intention. My skin prickled, feeling her incessant eyes crawling me.
“What about the twins? The rabbit man?”
I barely heard him over the ringing in my ears.
“Don’t care.”
“You do… or should. He’s in my head. The girls sing to me. Led me to this… spire in the woods. Was really—”
“What did you just say?” I stopped walking, watching him keep on before realizing I’d stopped. He’d seen it too. My stomach flipped, unsure how to feel. “What black spire?”
He tried to hide his smile. Thought he’d gotten a leg up. “It’s… hard to explain. It was like a tower, or a obelisk. Sat in the middle of this clearing.”
“Red clay?”
His eyes lit up. “Yes!” He walked towards me, face dropping again when I thrust the gun at him. He spoke again, softer this time. “I went to touch it but a child’s hand reached back to me. That was the first night I saw them.”
“Did they say anything?”
“Just that song. And to… help them.”
“Did you see any bones?”
He cocked his head, puzzled. “No. No bones.”
I chuckled but it was dry. “That’s your ‘rabbit man’. Kills people. Eats them. If it’s in your head, well…” I spun the barrel, gesturing for him to turn around. “That’s not a good thing.”
He didn’t spin. “It’s not a good thing. It wants these… crooked ones, whatever that means. Put these fuckin’ horns on me.” He paused, looking at the ground. “Made me kill him.”
Maggie pawed the ground, blowing air from her nose.
“I’m with her. Bullshit. You didn’t need to kill him. You were saving your own ass.”
A disgusting chortle burbled up his throat. “No shit! Boone’s gonna hang me for something I didn’t do. It showed me. I felt the noose!”
He craned his neck up, showing me the side. A dark red and brown bruise wrapped under his jaw and around his neck.
The thin black veins protruded against the skin as he strained. My gut roiled, bile burning the back of my tongue. His skin, the yellowed bones protruding from the sucking wounds on his head… he looked like something crawled out of the myths of the natives; a demon walking the land, pretending to be human but unable to mask its true form.
I swallowed. “You killed Yellow. We’ll let Boone sort it out.”
“Will you at least tell him you know it wasn’t me? You know it wasn’t me who killed that man the night I arrived.” He looked at me, eyes wet and expectant.
I nodded. I knew he didn’t do it. But he did dig up Larry. And kill my only fucking friend in Potter’s Field. Grief swelled up but I choked it down, the pain stinging behind my nose. I wouldn’t let him see me crack. Men like him only need one reason, one chance to lash out. I wouldn’t give him one.
“Thank you,” he murmured, spinning on his heel. We continued to town, Sawyer taking small, slow steps. Maggie flanked me, still staring.
Something bothered me about what he said. The rabbit man he so incessantly described—the Boatman—assuming he saw the same oar-wielding figure in the caves, had hanged him. His neck showed the bruises. It was possible it was unrelated.
Something told me he was telling the truth. Whether trying to compel me to save him or at least let him go, didn’t matter.
“You said he hanged you,” I started. “He’s called the Boatman, by the way.”
He kept walking but didn’t respond right away. “Why the Boatman?”
“It’s our religion. Always has been. We call him to take our people to Sheol. A ferryman, of sorts. He’s depicted as having a rabbit’s skull as a head. Never seen the horns, though.”
He snorted. “Usually religions are based around figurative things. Allegories. Things that need faith. The Boatman is very real.”
“Never thought he was,” I said. “He was just a figure. Something Father Boone talked about, but only when someone died.”
“I’ve heard some strange things but that’s up there with the best.”
I ignored him. “You said he hanged you.”
“Yeah. Felt real. Why?”
“Tell me.”
He dipped his chin, shuffling in the matted grass. The sky blurred, too bright to bear. The gun pulled me, urging me to the ground. I was exhausted. From the cave to the void, to that bone-filled clearing to watching Yellow get gored by… Sawyer. My head hung heavy, eyes flitted at the smallest cracks of light filtering through the clouds.
Just needed to get to town and everything would be fine.
Everything would be fine.
