In case you missed it, head over to part 1 and start from the beginning.

Then

“Thanks for helping me keep this place resembling some kind of order, Mr Hess.”

“It’s not a problem, padre. Anything to get in the good books with the man upstairs. Have you considered employing a full-time hand?” Garfield said as he was salting the pathways that skirted the church buildings. He stopped to blow his nose into the last clean Kleenex he had in his pocket.

“As you know I did have Gabe Sullivan helping, but things didn’t work out. I’m lucky I have you to help me out when you can.” Kinder nodded at Garfield’s attention to detail, smiled and walked inside. In his mid-fifties, Kinder looked much older. Extended periods looking after his ailing wife prior to her passing just months ago had taken its toll on his appearance. Kinder played the part of a frail minister, but truth be known, he was more than capable of the work given the dwindling congregation and increasing time on his hands.

No sooner inside, Kinder pocketed a small ointment bottle, two handkerchiefs and keys from a small drawer under an antique wooden table.

The minister returned and politely addressed Garfield. “Would you mind helping me do some fencing? There’s a section up at Shattered Peak that the church still owns from the days of the missionary. Youngsters keep cutting the fencing wires to get down the mountain faster and I’d prefer to keep the wildlife out.”

“Of course. I just need some fresh Kleenex. This cold has fouled me up and I’m all out.”

“Here, take this handkerchief. I’ve never been a fan of paper on my face.” Kinder had anticipated Garfield’s needs and handed the man one of the folded cotton squares.

The two headed up to Shattered Peak on a black snowmobile, along with a prominent red toolbox strapped to the rear, the tracks sending a two wintry-white rooster tails behind them.

Now. Shattered Peak

A single, tatty mattress lay on the floor with a grey sheet covering it. The cold squeezed through even the most hidden cracks, wherever it could sense weakness. In defence of warm-blooded life, a portable gas heater staved off the incoming assault. The water on the stove gurgled as steam-filled orbs popped upon reaching the surface. Wafts of moisture rose with an accompanied gaseous guest. An unnoticeable vapour. It was colourless and odourless. In more concentrated quantities, it did however, have the ability to shut down vital parts of the brain, those centres of control. During normal function, those control centres enable free will, the ability to make choices and act upon them. And of course, affect one’s ability to resist. Reverend Kinder’s age-spotted hand lowered the heat to a gentle simmer and reduced the chopped leaves and water in the pot until the green liquid had a concentration one hundred times that with which it had commenced. He strained the contents through a blue-checkered handkerchief into a dropper bottle, saving a teaspoon that he added to a china cup.

Glancing over his shoulder, Kinder beckoned the woman, “Hun, your tea’s ready. Don’t let it go cold, now.”

Now. The Abattoir

“She denied all of it. It made complete sense at the time. I was in a rage. The first line of defence is to deny everything despite the glaring facts. After catching your wife bent over the kitchen table, it’s irrefutable,” Gabe said. “I didn’t want to look further. I had no reason to.”

“That’s in the past, Gabe. If you want to talk about it, let’s choose a more appropriate time and audience.” Howard said, gesturing with his eyes to Joseph who was crouched, still fixed upon Garfield in disbelief. Neither Howard nor Joseph were in a position to know what was unfolding and Gabe knew he probably had little time to work with. He had a hunch and he had to get Howard up to speed. Fast.

The Cabin

A familiar hum climbed the mountain, the noise increasing. Reverend Kinder assumed Garfield had been circling the fence line on the snowmobile searching for other damaged sections. The large swathe of missionary land up the mountain would take hours to check and he was certain that the scopolamine-soaked handkerchief ensured he followed his initial instructions without a second thought. Kinder needed help up there, that was for certain. As a defensive precaution, Kinder’s loaded Henry .30-30 lever-action rifle lay upright under the window ready to protect himself against any curious cougar.

The empty cup sat on a small walnut side table. Selina willingly obeyed her captor, perched on all fours on the mattress, underwear down to her ankles, eyes vacant. Kinder ran his hand across her back and down, cupping her breast... Just as a boot shattered the door, sending pine splinters across the floor!

“You motherfucker!” Gabe’s eyes were bulging with a fiery anger, his suspicions confirmed. Quickly scanning the room, the brass receiver of the shotgun caught in his peripheral vision. Gabe was quick. Kinder dashed for the stove. Too late.

“All those books. Your interest in botany. You germinated seeds of the Devil’s breath under lights and drugged Hess and my fucking wife, you cocksucker.”

“A weakness... Forgive me...” Kinder’s flaccid words only incriminating him further. Pants at his ankles, a giant welt on his forehead, blackened eyes and slowed by the effects of concussion, Kinder was as helpless as his victims. Gabe latched onto his leg and dragged the bloodied minister into the snow.

His face blue and body stiffened, the Reverend’s flesh sustained the cougar that night. Kinder’s shredded remains now preserved in the frigid white. Until of course, they thaw come the warmth then proceed to rot.

---

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I’m currently working on my debut fantasy novel based on my early work, Adventures in Elowyn Glade. Click the link to get an idea of where my first novel is headed!

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You didn’t think you’d leave here without me shamelessly plugging my other work, right?

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