Happy Halloween! New Excerpt from My Horror Novel

This is another sample from my first novel. The action takes place appropriately on Halloween. It's available now on Amazon!           

        In late October of 1903, the howling grew louder and more pervasive and was accompanied by a thick mist that saturated the woods for miles around . Even those who had always been skeptical about the noises seemed uneasy. A sensible explanation didn’t seem likely any more. On a Friday afternoon a four-year-old girl named Rebecca McAllister, whose parents lived on a farm near Jerusalem, waddled away from her mother while she was outside hanging sheets on the clothesline. As Rebecca approached the woods, a huge animal swooped out from the trees, snatched her, and bolted back into the thickets. The hysterical mother claimed the beast resembled a dog, but that everything happened so quickly she really wasn’t sure.    

          The McAllister’s and a few of their neighbors came into town the next morning, appropriately All Hallows’ Eve, and frantically told everyone about the kidnapping. They also pleaded for the town to form a posse and search for the little girl before nightfall. At the time I was chairman of the city council, a Robespierre in the Committee of Public Safety, and, after hearing about the horrific occurrence insisted the assembly should have an emergency meeting. Using teary eloquence, I convinced most of the other members that we should call out our militia and have them ride to the McAllister farmhouse. Once there, they would split up and comb the wilderness, shooting any large animal they encountered. I would even lead the expedition.

          My decision, however, was charged with emotion and I wasn’t about to hear any dissenting opinions. Samuel was Rebecca’s age at the time and I could feel the parents’ anguish.  I wanted desperately to hunt down and kill whatever had abducted the little girl, something Joshua would have done also. He always believed in settling a score. But unlike my father, I was ignorant about war. Had he still been alive, he would have told me that before attacking the enemy, you first had to reconnoiter and determine their strength and just as important you had to launch an attack as early as possible to allow for plenty of daylight. I didn’t calculate that there might be a horde of other beasts out there or that if we were caught in those woods after dark, we would likely be massacred. It would be a fate calamitous to that of Revolutionary France’s fledging armies who were cut to shreds after brashly invading the Austrian Netherlands.  Even worse, if we died, there would be nobody else to replace us. We were revolutionaries who numbered in the dozens, not the thousands.

           It took a few aggravating hours to assemble our militia. Most of the men lived miles away and runners had to be dispatched to notify them about the emergency. This group was really a makeshift police force that we had created when we drawing up our new charter. We had discarded the office of sheriff and felt that a defense force might even be better, especially since we had estranged ourselves from the world and our measly town had a past sopping with violence. The unit included veterans who had fought for both the North and South during the war as well as men who had never left civilian life.

Regrettably, we held drill only one weekend a month, not enough to make us an effective fighting unit. It was a revolutionary army but without the fervor. Nevertheless we prided ourselves in the fact that Jerusalem was probably the only American town with its own army. 

           The only other time we had called out the militia was the previous summer when a colored convict, who had escaped from a chain gang outside Hendersonville, was rumored to be hiding somewhere nearby. We scavenged the woods for days before concluding that the prisoner had probably gone off in a different direction.  It was such a waste of time that a few men quit, tired of pretending to be soldiers.

           By three in the afternoon most of the men had gathered in the town square, together with a throng of onlookers. All of the militiamen carried personal firearms, everything from outdated rifled muskets they had used in the war to modern bolt-action Springfields and Remingtons. I stood on top of the town well that marked the center of the plaza, trying to create the illusion of  authority. I was going to deliver a short speech  to rationalize what was causing the mist and the howls and hopefully dispel any superstitious dread that would keep the men from participating in the hunt. The problem was that I was losing faith in the logical. I was growing baffled like everyone else, but I couldn’t dare show it.  

          Standing directly below me was the eager young militia captain, Johnny Albright. Albright’s father, a former Confederate officer, had originally been the commander but suffered a stroke almost two years ago that left him speechless and bedridden. The council had nominated Albright because he was smart, energetic, and well-read. He exhibited undeniable military skill, much of it learned from his father, but he was still a boy.

          “Gentlemen, the smoke we are seeing seems to be caused from forest fires somewhere near Mount Pisgah,” I announced. “While we have not talked to anyone from any of the outlying communities to confirm this story, I believe it entirely plausible that the flames are driving wildlife, including cougars, fox, bears, and other predators down in the valleys.”

          “Uh, Mr. Landry, if this is smoke from fires,” calmly asked a Confederate veteran named John Wesley, “then how come we can’t smell the smoke?”

         Wesley stood about six-feet-four and weighed well over two hundred pounds.  As always he wore Western attire including a bandana, boots, a floppy hat, and a Mexican loop holster buckled around his waist.  He looked as if he has just come off a Texas cattle drive. Wesley was not a member of the militia, having had his fill of military life during the war, but was always game for adventure.     

           “Pisgah is almost twenty miles away,” I retorted. “How could you smell it?”

          “Don’t you think this mission is risky?”  Wesley snapped back. “We need more men. Your unit is at half company strength.”

          “John, when did you ever worry about risk?”

           “I’m all for goin’, I’m rarin’ to go. I just believe we need to start fresh tomorrow morn.”

          I heard a lot of militia members murmur “yeah, he’s right.” Obviously they weren’t going. I was not an officer and the militia was not a real military unit, so I couldn’t order these men to do anything, I could only try and persuade them.

          “Captain Albright,” I whispered irritably. “Would you care to address your men?”

          “Yes, sir,” Albright said, saluting me. “Gentlemen, that innocent little girl will be avenged. If any of you are too timid to come, then hide in your homes with your herbs and talismans to ward off evil spirits, something many of you have done for years.”

          I felt inside my pants pocket and fingered the amulet that my father had given me just before he died.

          “You can call me a coward all you want, captain,” another man shouted, young, blonde, and clean-shaven who still went by his boyhood name of Scamp, “but I’m not gonna wander the woods in the dark with those things out there. I have a family, two little girls. They’re scared to death at night and I don’t want to leave them.”

          “Can’t we take a vote on this?” asked a man with long-haired bearded man named James

Morrissey or Jim as we called him. “I mean, we are a pure democracy are we not?”

          “Listen, if we don’t act now all our children are in danger,” I yelled back. “If you men don’t want to do your duty then Albright and I will go ourselves.”

          “Your funeral,” someone hollered.

          The militia, some forty men including Wesley, began dispersing, muttering in discontent as they sauntered away. Many were heading for the tavern across the street. I jumped down from the rock wall of the well, took off my bowler hat, and threw on it the ground in exasperation.

          “I’m sorry for getting you tangled up in this,” I apologized to Albright, placing my hand on his slender shoulder.

           “Should we go, sir?” Albright asked, tightly gripping his officer’s sword that he had fastened around his waist with a leather belt. They had belonged to his father, as did the gray kepi hat he wore.

          “Might as well wait. Those boys are right; it’s too late in the day to start out. I’m so damned frustrated  that we can’t help that poor family. We’ve got to do something and fast. I think I’ll telegram Dr. Sumner in Asheville and see if he can persuade the authorities to help, as much as I hate getting the outside involved in our affairs.  I’m afraid more children will die before it’s over. Early tomorrow morning you, Wesley, and I will ride to their farm and scout around. It’s got to still be out there. Meet me here in the square before sunup. Bring plenty of ammo.”

          “Sounds like a capital idea, sir. I want to get this matter settled as quickly as you do.”

          I picked up my hat and slapped it against my leg. “I swear by all that’s holy that I’m going to kill whatever bastard got that little girl, personally skin it, and nail its mangy hide on the wall.”

         Before going back home, I needed to find Wesley and tell him about my plan. As I was walking toward the tavern, my head hung low, I heard a loud collective gasp. I immediately looked up and noticed a dark ring encasing the town square. Unable to make out what it was, I squinted and discovered that the ring was composed of what appeared to be over a hundred large dogs. They were all identical in size, shape, and color…gray canines with big heads, tapering snouts, and pointed ears, densely packed together and standing perfectly motionless. The beasts must have moved into position with incredible stealth because seconds before no one had seen them.

           “Albright, what’s happening?” I shouted.

          “I don’t know, sir. The town’s been invaded by a dog pack.”

          The townspeople caught within the ring were too terrified to move except for big Wesley who had already drawn out one of his revolvers. There was a small gap in the circle and through this opening stepped another creature, similar in appearance to the others but larger and coal black in color. It had sizzling red eyes and was clutching in its slavering jaws the chewed body of a small child. Most of the onlookers shrieked and moaned when they saw the remains of the little McAllister girl.

          “Sweet Christ, it’s come back,” I muttered.

          With the adrenaline pumping through me and making me forget my fears, I hastily formulated a plan. “Captain Albright, order your men to form a circle and then get everybody inside it. Hurry before they make a move.”

          Albright saluted, unsheathed his sword, and started barking orders. The army of the revolution was about to go into battle for the first time.