Before the soles of Derek’s tennis shoes had touched the old, rounded cobblestones of Appoline Way, before he was even close enough to see the town proper in the distance ahead of him, his keyring was squeezing an impression into his palm. The key to his mother’s store was pressed between the pad of his thumb and the second joint of his pointer finger, like it was poised to enter the lock of the front door. Long before he reached that door, however, his legs were faltering beneath him. His gait was bobbing, trading a rhythm back-and-forth with his lungs. His hands were shaking, too, as he stumbled into the empty, dark store. Without a second’s worth of contemplation, he made his way through the crowded aisles, past the counter and into the backroom. He locked the door behind him and climbed underneath his mother’s desk.
He wasn’t certain what had happened back at the bridge, but something about the look on the Bunyine’s face had been truly frightening. For an instant, it had looked at him and seen bloody meat. For a moment, he thought he saw something else, too. The boy did not know what, or who, had upset the beast, but it did not matter who had done it, of that Derek was certain. All that mattered was who was on hand to pay for it. Even if it did not suspect his complicity in this matter, it did not find him innocent, either. And that was enough for it. It had no pity. It would feel no regret. It had almost torn him apart, right there and then. Perhaps circumstances did not permit.
A terrifying thought came to Derek. Was his mother in danger? When the idea came to him, it struck him dumb. He was suddenly desperate, even helpless. Should he have run home? Or called? Should he call now? He chastised himself for being so self-centered and shot to his feet. The phone was, actually, out front, rather than in her office. It never occurred to him to wonder why, but he wished it were different now.
He unlocked the office door, but froze mid-turn as he opened it. By now at least a couple businesses would normally be active. There were two bakeries, but there had been no cars out in front of them. If they were open today, they’d be in by now. Both were full of activity by 3:00 a.m. at the very latest. He didn’t know why there was no sign of life outside, but no cars meant no people. If only it would stay that way until the sun arose.
Had he created the perfect trap for himself? Perhaps not. This little store was filled to the ceiling with thick furniture made of old, polished wood. Tables, dressers, wardrobes and lots of other heavy things. When you were being hunted by a super predator, there was no better place than this to hole up, anywhere, in the whole town. It didn’t matter, though. He didn’t matter. He had to warn his mother. He had to stop getting distracted by his selfish fear. To his mind, that’s all it was - selfishness. He stepped through the door and searched behind the counter for the land line. For the first time in his life, he truly wished he’d had a cell phone.
Something stirred outside the building. Something moved. Something large. There was a terrible silence outside, but Derek knew the creature was there. He could feel its presence, in that way that he did. The Bunyine walked on giant, yet delicate, cat’s paws, and could keep from being heard if it wished. This is what made it such a wily hunter. He didn’t see its shadow, again, for a couple of minutes. It must have been just sitting out in the open, waiting on its next move. The cards seemed to be oddly in Derek’s favor. All he had to do was remain inside. As long as it was here looking for him, and not at his house where his mother was, Derek didn’t dare do anything. Someone would come along and scare it off. Or would they? What if it just did to them what it wanted to do to him? It was hunting now, is it not? It might focus on him, or it might kill anyone that came along. That would be Derek’s fault. It would be on him. He brought it here. What had he done?
There can be no doubt it knew he was in here, so why was it keeping so quiet? It could smell him. It followed his scent directly from the woods. It was, probably, just lulling him into carelessness. Hoping the quiet would lure him outside. But the sun would come up, eventually. People would come. What would it do? It cannot die, so it had nothing to fear from anybody who crossed its path. What if one person called on others? It could be a massacre. A bloodbath right there on the streets of his hometown. All his fault!
Even if it can’t be killed, would it risk itself being discovered? If its existence became known, it would bring all of humanity down on its head. Agents of the state and federal government, the news media, people from all corners of Pennsylvania, the country, even the world would arrive here in columns. The fact that it was even here showed how hungry it was for his blood, because it made no logical sense, doing this. What should he do now?
As he pondered that very question, the question was answered. From outside the store, the Bunyine’s long body blocked the glass, shutting out all moonlight pouring through the window and damning the store to an unwelcome darkness. The shadow drew ominously over Derek, like the lid of a casket solemnly closing, leaving him tiny, fragile, and terrified.
“Not so brave now, are we, child?” came the creature’s deep and terrible voice. “I can hear you in there cowering. There is no escaping me, boy. I shall have your blood if I wish it. AND I DO WISH IT!” A roar followed that shook everything. The contents of the store rattled all around Derek, as if celebrating the beast’s greatness with a grim show of applause. Derek shrieked. The Bunyine heard him and was amused. The slightest bit of laughter tinkled at the bottom of its throat. “Why be afraid, little man? Are we not friends, now? Does your heart not ache for my suffering, any longer? Surely, you must have known we would end up here. Didn’t you suspect?”
Derek was too frightened to think reasonably. The impetus to scream for help was too great to ignore, so he screamed something else, rather than hold it in. “What do you want?!” the boy shouted, then buried his head between his knees.
There was a brief surcease of noise. The beast was considering his answer. “I shall have all I need, forthwith,” it said with a stitch of impish delight.
Derek, in his hiding place, could not see as the Bunyine took a long stride backward to the other side of the road, drawing its body back like a bowstring. Then it leaped forward with the force of a steam locomotive. The creature’s giant head struck the front of the building in a gigantic cacophony of crashes. Glass shattered! Brick crumbled! All in a discordant roar. The kind of din heard as the walls of Jericho tumbled into the dirt. When the Bunyine pulled its gigantic head out of the wreckage, the front half of the roof fell inward, collapsing into the large hole it had left behind. It was tender from a thousand cuts and bruises dotting the fur of its skull. It was far more discombobulated than the most recent occasion it had hit its head. For that had happened in another world. One where he was considerably more powerful. Nearly as powerful as it creator.
Derek, inside the store, just like the children earlier this night, was losing his own head. His screams poked through the ruckus as it peaked and ebbed. The Bunyine, then, hovered over the hole he’d made, pleased with the absence he’d created. His hot, immense breaths filled up the store’s empty spaces. The air above Derek’s head grew warm. The boy protected himself as best he could. However, with half the building’s roof missing, or falling in, the area beneath the counter did not feel like such a safe place to be, anymore.
The creature’s massive head tilted up when the door to the backroom slammed shut. The boy had fled deeper into the building. This didn’t have the slightest effect on the beast’s delighted mood. It cackled at the locked door. Laughing at it, as if it were an Autumn leaf and he the God of Winds. Its voice boomed through the thin, old wall that divided the two of them. “The worse it will be when I get my teeth in you, Derek. I show no mercy to an obstinate child.” The beast groaned in greasy anticipation of the bloody mess he’d make of the boy. Drool pooled thickly in his mouth. It hadn’t eaten a full meal for decades. “Your legs and arms shall go first. I will pluck them like the petals of a daisy. You will enjoy the pain, and the sound of them crunching in my jaws, I assure you. Many a child has had the pleasure. Even here, in this peasant village, I have entertained them from time to time.”
Something caught the Bunyine’s eye. It swung its head around. There was a shimmering form in the middle of the street, just a short distance behind him. The shape was changing as if by its own will. It became flat, like the mattress on a child’s bed. It resembled a tombstone. An image of Derek cowering inside the ruins of the furniture store appeared there. The image was monochromatic like a flipping screen on an old black-and-white television set. For some reason, rooted in naiveté, the new arrival thought this sad picture would have a sympathetic effect on the Bunyine. It only made the beast hungrier. The creature’s brow crinkled. “Why are you here, thing?” the behemoth asked. The thing did not respond, it remained as still as it could. The Bunyine grunted, dismissing it. “You are not needed, Onk. Besides, you have no power here. I was going to make a deal with your dead friend for this boy, but I’ve changed my mind. You can do nothing here, but…” said the Bunyine. A growl followed. It was annoyed in a most frightening way. “Distract me. GET AWAY!”
The Onk stiffened at the huge beast’s shout. It looked as if it wished to flee, but it held fast. Having no physical form in this world does not exempt one from fear. Apparently, the kind of fright engendered by a being this terrible transcended worlds. The image of the sun suddenly blazed up and across the Onk’s body, but it was too late now. The Bunyine had turned away, it was not paying attention to it, anymore. “You may watch me break my fast if you wish, thing,” the Bunyine said drolly. Its whole body faced away. The Onk conceded failure. It could not get the beast’s attention now, it was focused entirely on its hunt, and would pay him no mind. The image of the boy appeared, again, on its belly. Though he was hidden in darkness, his countenance was clearly envisaged. The dread upon it was obvious and pitiable.
“May I join you?” shouted a thin little voice from…somewhere.
The Bunyine spun his head away, again, from the rubble he’d made of the Windwards’ store. A new scent tingled his nostrils. His head turned every which way, his nose scraping at the air for a trail, but he could not pin down the source of the tingle. “What is that? Are you a boy, too? Strange. Hmmm,” said the beast. “You are very strange.” This oddity of this new arrival was usurping the Bunyine’s attention.
“Here to watch!” the voice called from somewhere indeterminate. “Go ahead, then! I shall not interrupt you, sir! Have at your meal! Go on! I insist!”
The Bunyine was so intrigued that it turned its whole huge body around, as if forgetting what it had been doing. “Sounds like a boy, but you are not a boy, at all, are you? No. That is just your shape, I think. I know you. Yes, there’s something familiar here. I sense it. A scent or…no, something else…something of the ether. Old. Yes. But who? Do I know you, child?”
“You know me, sir!” the voice called as if from every direction.
The Bunyine’s head spun. “If I had to guess…hmm. Who could you be? There are so few…hmm…so old.” The beast’s ears pricked up, its eyes rounded out. “Could you be one of the children from the garden? Yes? A son of my king and queen? The belligerent one? Of course. I would stake my life on it, now.”
“Stake your life! Not a fair wager, sir!” came the voice of Tibb, scattered as a fog. The Bunyine took a few steps, little more than curious at this turn of events.
“You were a boy, but…what are you now?”
“Still a boy!” Came a voice from behind, but it vanished in an instant. The Bunyine’s head spun nearly all the way around. The voice had been on the roof, but the speaker was no longer there. Long gone, it seemed.
“So…why not show me what you look like now?” the beast asked. “Surely, you are not afraid? Something so old as you?”
“Of course!” came a cry from…above? Below? “Who would not shiver before you, gorgon! So magnificent you are!” The Bunyine was starting to get irritated.
“What do you want?” it asked. “You care nothing for this child. You are old, like me. You care for nothing! For no one! After all this time, how else could you be?”
“Too frightened!” Tibb yelped. “Too frightened to speak! Frightened of you, oh great one!”
“You mock me, flea? Am I hearing this?” the Bunyine asked with a growl as deep as a dungeon. If menace had weight, this voice would sink the Spanish Armada. “I must be going mad.”
“Remember you!” the voice called. “I remember! I remember!”
“Stop this! Stop annoying me! Be gone, speck! Or live in fear! From this moment on, you will live in fear of me!”
“What a fool! Oh, it is glorious! You will run!”
“Run from YOU?” Never had the Bunyine been taunted like he’d been this day, and he did not handle it with poise. The experience was unfamiliar. A being that could mock him had been few and far between over the millenniums. “These are your last words, Kakra. You would best say something worth remembering.”
A thin laugh sliced the air. It was from a short distance away. The Bunyine looked to its left side, and there he stood. Kakra, The Picker of Fights. He was in a change of clothes. He now wore a fedora and a gray wool suit that was overlarge. He wore no tie, but it was buttoned up to the chin. It was made for a man, and the difference was comical.
“I know what scares you, gorgon!” Tibb sang with a spring, then he calmly came forward. The boy had a swagger that would have enraged the coolest of minds. Tibb’s brazenness had clearly shocked the Bunyine, who could do nothing but watch him, fascinated. “Look around you, sir. The night is leaving, and it is coming. It! It! It!” Tibb jabbed at the air, pointing to the sky. He spun on one foot, then clicked the heels of his penny loafers. His hat, overlarge, tilted on his head. The Bunyine simply glared back at him, doing nothing about it. It turned its enormous body around to meet its head, and faced him. Its breath quickened, and its heart began to thump rapidly.
“Oh, what could frighten such a thing as you?” asked Tibb, far too delighted to be up to any good. “What could that be? Why, there is but one thing greater than thou, is there not, sir? One thing more mighty than the Bunyine. One thing, and it is has come for you! You have tarried, yes sir! Tarried too long!”
The Bunyine’s bravado shriveled away. Its oldest enemy was here.
“Oh, but admit to your craven ways, beast! Flee for your cave before you catch its eye. For what will happen if it sees you? Go now, cat, and escape its sight! For it brings them, and they bring pain!”
The Bunyine was still as a statue. It was remembering. Though it had been more than a thousand years, the noose still tore at his neck. After all these generations of men had come and gone, he still could not forget the urging of the noose, at every dawn. The great beast turned about, seeing the cowering splash of his shadow trailing away behind him. He'd waited too long, he'd let the blood lust rule his mind, lead him astray. A bright night had become morning all around him,and he’d been too obtuse to notice. The smell of blood had made him witless.
“To be seen out here!” Tibb yelled. “What could be more dangerous? It would be the end of you! To the woods, beast! To your hole! Before they come!” Tibb pressed his hands to his pale face, mocking the beast’s growing terror. The boy jabbed his finger at the sky. ”Oh, but what will they do to you, poor beast! They will follow you! They will make revenge upon thee! Oh, what will you do! Face it, cat! Face the morning! Face the daylight gate!”
It was just like that terrible boy had said. The sun. It comes. It brings them, and they bring pain. What would they do if they caught him, again? The day was blooming all around him, the sun peeking up from behind the distant Pennsylvanian hills. He cowered as it approached, his paws tensed and curled, scraping the street’s chilly pavement. If they saw him, they would come for him. These days they were powerful. They would find him. Those terrible little rodents called men would come in their multitudes. They would catch him and send him back to that darkness that never stops, that terrible oblivion that throttles you and crushes you to no end. This time, they would do it right. There would be no escape until the end of the world. It would be as his father promised, ages ago. And here they came.
A couple hundred feet up Appoline Way, the sound of a weak electric horn blatted. The unfortunate driver at the wheel of a small car had turned a corner and seen the Bunyine out on the street, in all its immensity. Her surprise was total. She drove her car up onto the concrete median, burying it in a patch of the colorful trees. The woman continued to cram the horn for help as she gunned the small engine, but she was too frightened to work the controls. Her hands fumbled at the wheel as the monster began to stir and turn itself around.
The Bunyine’s eyes were fixed on the interloper. As was its way in danger, its fear forced itself to become something useful. Hatred, bloodlust, and rage, enough to boil an army of Mongols, all directed at the hapless woman in her quaint automobile. The giant grunted, then tore away. He charged at the car, every ancient muscle and tendon strained as if it fought to lift the weight of heaven. Its tremendous legs carried it there, one hundred feet away, in an instant. The beast lowered its head and struck the vehicle at the front bumper while the woman scrambled for an escape. The car dragged backward on the median for twenty feet or so, then, with a huge clunk, the car flipped up onto its rear bumper and fell back onto its roof and windshield with a loud, sickening crunch. The driver and horn, alike, made no more noise.
The gigantic creature continued past the wreckage and bounded down the street, fleeing the town of Sparkle, terrified beyond the hopes of the delighted Tibb, who exalted, leaping with triumph in the gaining light. It had been everything he’d wanted, and more. From a distance, another terrible crash punctuated what was, otherwise, the calmest of mornings. Roars and screams were dashed across the sunrise. Then all became silent, once more. But it was the silence of the graveyard, not the garden.