Preys and Predator Part II; the monster and witches' Chapter 43

 

43.

“I saw the monster. It was there.” The man stepped out of the forest and met the people gathered there. There were men and women, some armed with rifles, while others held what they could grab from their homes.

“It was running by the treelines there.”

“May God have mercy on us!” One of the women there called out, holding the metal rake in the right hand.

“God will once we kill the monster.” A man called out. To the masculine, it was all about the killing. They will seek penance after it or have their egos praised over the mugs.

“Let us find the monster.” The man who called out earlier took the first step. He was brave with the Brown Bess rifle held in his hands.

“Ian McShane, you do not rush in there. We have a bairn at home who needs his father.” His lover cautioned him. The man stopped in his tracks and looked back. Nothing could stop a man except the cries of his own.

“I am coming with you, Shane. I am not letting you have that round of drinks without my name there.” Trust old Patrick Duffy with the sabre; he took it off a Lancer officer in the war to shore up the courage in Ian. Both took the lead, followed by the others.

There were words to describe a hunt: "The thrill of the hunt is not in the kill, but in the challenge, the preparation, and the chase."  Alas, the ending always sounded like this: "Every hunter has a story; it's woven into the fabric of their being." 

Shots rang out at intermittent times; the rifle was at fault. It needed reloading once it released the shot. The shooter will pour the black powder from the cartridge down the barrel, then spit the musket ball into the muzzle, stuff in the wadding, and ram it all home.

“Sonny, you keep watch with the pitchfork. I am loading the ball in.” The father, Patrick Duffy, having fired the rifle last in the war, was nervous about reloading the rifle. If his ornery sergeant were there, it would have been five rounds of marching as punishment. He was also lost from the others, having taken the wrong turn on the path. He had shot at what he perceived to be a monster, but it was the fleeting shadow of the branches.

“You keep on watching, Sonny.”

“I can hear them over yonder.” Sonny told his Dada.

It was not an annual affair of fox or duck hunting there in the forest, but the villagers did a grand task of stirring up the atmosphere with the noises and screeching then. If there were tigers around, they would have fled the forest.

But not the monster.

“Dada, what does a monster look like?” Sonny asked.

“I would not know. Ugly and… huge.” Patrick muttered. His lover was huge but knew what matters to him.

“Dada…….” Sonny was to caution the father when the older man had his head grabbed from the rear. He was to raise the shout when he felt his head pulled to the back; the force was great, and the cervical spine, where the first seven vertebrae were in the spine. It supports the weight of your head, surrounds and protects your spinal cord, and allows for a wide range of head motions. The force of the grab was followed by the pull action that caused the vertebrae there to crack and the head was without its support.

It may be called bad whiplash damage, but Patrick was slumping to the ground, struggling to breathe. Sonny screamed and had the first real sight of the monster.

“It… it was a monster.” Sonny muttered in between sobs of tears. He was pressed to describe the monster.

“I do not know. I…… Dada is dead.” Sonny released his fear into tears.

“We must find the monster quick. First Wallace, Terry, and now Patrick. “The leader of the gathering voiced out.

“Tell us what we are to do, Collins?” The leader sports a small frame, but he had served in the infantry and retired a non-commissioned officer.

“The monster must have a hideout. We need to find that and then trap it there.” Collins spoke out. “Gathered around me. The killings took place here and here and here.”

Collins drew a rough sketch of the area on the ground with the twig he had fashioned as a pencil.

“I say the monster is holed here.” Collins pointed to the chalk drawing on the ground. “We need to drive the monster here. There we will wait and kill it.”

“What do we use as bait?” It was Ian who asked. “I hunt the hogs.”

“No, we will lure it there. We will form groups and make a lot of noise to get it there. The paths we will take are here and here.” Collins looked to the sky. “We have like three hours before it gets dark. Before that, we will convene back here. We will then return home and begin at dawn.”

The gathering split into four groups and took off.

“Silvus, we will go to the creek.” Victor told the man who was with him. Victor was armed with the revolver, while Silvus had with him the dagger he had on him inside the coat. He had fashioned a long staff for protection.

“Follow me.” Victor took the lead to the creek. He heard the noises made by the other groups, but he had his own path. The walk was long, and finally they reached the creek. It was quiet there, and Victor examined the ground. There was no sign of the creation.

“Master Victor, can I have my coins now?” Victor heard the request. He was to reply when he felt the impact of the staff onto his back. He fell forward, and the second blow was on his head. He suffered a concussion then, but he was aware that his pockets were searched when his body was turned face up and his revolver removed.

“Master Victor, where are my coins?” Silvus stood over the fallen man. Victor shook his head to clear it and looked at Silvus. The vision was unclear, but he knew that if he had fallen prey to the man.

“Where are my coins?” Silvus had thrown away the staff and drawn out the dagger. He leveled it at Victor. He had taken from the pockets of Victor’s coat the few coins there. It was not enough.

“I do not have it…… here.” Victor struggled to focus. “It is in the mansion.”

“You are lying, Master Victor.” Silvus was desperate. “I will …… kill you.”

“Kill me, Silvus? And you will not get any more coins.” Victor said. “They will hang you.”

“Hang me? I am ... No, you will be dead. I will tell them the monster did it.” Silvus laughed. 

Silvus did not feel the pain when the staff cracked his head and smeared his brain matter to the ground. The crude wooden staff broke on impact. The dead man fell forward onto Victor. The latter struggled to push the dead man off him. Once he had done that, he had a glimpse of his savior.

“Henry?” Victor muttered before he slipped into darkness.

Elizabeth wished she was enveloped in darkness when the door to her home was opened. Her aunt stood there in the doorway and was not stepping aside for the younger lady to go in.

“May I come in, Aunt?’

“The prodigal girl returned.” The elderly lady then admitted the younger lady. Elizabeth ignored the lady and walked to her room. Mrs. Muriel looked at the departing lady and then rejoined her meeting with the members of the committee.

“How is she?” The empathic Doctor Judith Landis asked.

“She will survive.” Mrs. Muriel sat herself down on the seat.

“I could attend to her.” Doctor Edward Theodore III, with a doctorate in theology and medicine offered.

“No necessity.” Mrs. Muriel looked at the doctor. “She is in good hands. Let us go back to the matter we were discussing.”

“As I was saying earlier, the matter of the monster has escalated, and it is all related to the Frankenstein family. The unexplained death of Ernest Frankenstein has raised more questions on their link to more drastic works.”

“What about Ms. Muriel’s involvement with……?” Mrs. Landis had raised a valid concern.

“Ms. Muriel was there as she was……looking for a place to stay, knowing that her friend, Justine Moritz, was there before. She could be packing up Ms. Moritz’s personal items, which are unfavorable to be touched by strangers. She was unable to leave when the rumors of the monster were highlighted and reservedly inflamed by the villagers.” Mrs. Muriel stamped her authority on the matter. “I trust Ms. Muriel will give us her reasons after she has rested.”

Doctor Edward was to cut in, but the chairperson continued.

“I was there to offer her safe passage home, but the Frankenstein had denied me that. To that, we will vote on the next action to be taken against the Frankenstein.”

Action was getting things to be done, or done, but Chief Constable Lestrade was not rushing to that. He had joined the gathering in the forest but held back his action, even restraining the constable then.

“Watson, we must not act impulsively.  We are to act within the available evidence cumulated in our investigative works. We must apply logical …. Reasoning from the evidence, eliminating…… no, it shall be deductions of the causes to arrive at the …….”

“Sir, may I join the search?” Constable Watson asked.

“Oh, yes, you may.” The Chief Constable nodded. The newly appointed constable took off on the hunt, leaving the Chief Constable then standing at the altar of the church. He looked to the figure on the crucifix.

“It was elementary that the man may lack the proper skills of the crime detective, but given time he will learn.” The Chief Constable, Lestrade, traces the cross on his forehead, lips, and chest.