Winter Prey

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Well after sunset and an hour into his wait for Sheriff Hjak, the man the dispatcher told him to expect, Caleb finally remembered to check his phone. A damned blocked call. Maybe an attempt to distract him so the shooter could get a clear shot? A true attempt to kill him? A stray shot? A warning? If so, why?

He'd already emptied one pot of coffee and brewed another. The burnt odor from the rug sopping with fire extinguisher foam lingered in the room. Thankfully, the landlord had pointed out the extinguisher on the brief tour of the small cabin. Now the metal canister lay on its side, empty and needing a refill or replacement. Which he would damn sure take care of with a trip into town tomorrow.

No doubt what had shattered the window. Caleb found the spent bullet on the hearth, crumbled from its impact with the fireplace stone. It was a small caliber shell, a .22. Could have been a stray, he supposed. Still, that was an awfully small caliber rifle, or pistol, to be carrying in a land where large animals roamed.

Where large animals usually roamed, he corrected himself.

Caleb's frustration threatened the reins of its bounds. The sheriff should have been here by now. Finally, he tried reaching Keoman again.

This time, the Native American man answered on the first ring. "I can't talk right now. Where are you?"

"At my cabin," Caleb spat. "Ducking bullets!"

"Shit," Keoman said softly, too softly to suit Caleb's frame of mind. "Are you all right?"

"Hjak's on the way. "

"Look, I'll be there as soon as I can. In fact, I tried to call you a while ago, but had to hang up when an Elder came back."

So it had been the shaman who called. "I thought you didn't want to meet me here."

"I'll have to make an exception."

"How long?" Caleb demanded.

"An hour. Maybe less. Did you hear anyone?"

"Your damn windigo doesn't use a rifle," Caleb snarled. "It uses claws and teeth. Eats its human prey. Whoever did this wasn't close enough for that."

"No snowmobile? No four-wheel drive starting up its engine and leaving?"

"No. Look - "

"I have to go."

Keoman disconnected, and Caleb stared at his phone in disgust, until a few seconds later, someone pounded on the cabin door. The knocker followed up with, "McCoy? It's Sheriff Hjak! You all right in there?"

Rifle in hand, Caleb strode over to the window, where frigid air still blew through the broken pane despite the piece of cardboard Caleb had shoved over the hole. Whoever... whatever...had called out might be lying about being the sheriff. If it was a what, his research indicated that some could imitate human voices via telepathy. That voice was clearly audible, but who knew how much this evil Northwood monster had evolved over three centuries.

Damn the fact of no electricity in this rental he'd chosen because it was available on short notice. The lack of amenities hadn't bothered him initially. He'd spent weeks, even months, on his own in the wilderness. He knew how to take care of himself. Yet a set of security floodlights would be welcome now.

He chanced a quick glance, eyes sharpened with vigilance...as well as caution. A touch of fear, too. Only fools insisted they were never afraid. Fear had saved his ass more than once. Getting shot at wasn't his favorite pastime. Hadn't been even when he served his Marine tour.