Read Online Snowblind by Michael Abbadon - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Michael Abbadon
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the edge, arm dangling in the air. His neck had been ripped open, the trachea exposed like a bloody vacuum hose. The shoulder of the other arm was jammed tightly between the wood bars, as though the arm had been yanked in before being chewed off.
The cage was empty. The bars in the front had been torn apart; a huge, gaping hole remained.
Jake whirled around, flashing the light in all directions.
The abomination was loose.
21.
Tiny balls of ice hung in Curly Ander's beard. In the frigid night air, the big burly trapper was working up a sweat. He set another log on the block, swung his axe and split it clean through the core. Then he set up and quartered each half, tossing them on the pile by the side of the cabin.
He'd been chopping wood for half an hour and the pile was getting high. Enough to warm me for a week, he thought. He paused to watch the smoke from his chimney feed the rolling clouds. The storm had been building all evening; he knew he might be shut in for more than a few days. Snowflakes whirled in the light of his lantern; a foot and a half mantled the eave above his head. It was coming fast.
He split six more logs, then stopped again. He stared off into the darkness of the rustling pines and down the trackless road that led up to his cabin.
He'd thought he'd heard something, though it was more a feeling than an actual sound. Like that sense he had when a grizzly was nearby. But the grizzlies are all asleep in their dens, he thought. Just like I should be.
The gusting wind whistled. He picked up the axe and split one last log. Then he slammed the blade into the block and left it there. He went to the woodpile, pulled on his caribou-leather mitts, and began stacking the logs to carry inside.
The wind blew snow up in his face as he bent over the pile. He loaded his arms with logs and stood up. Then he turned toward the cabin, and froze in his tracks.
The axe was gone.
Curly spilled his armful of logs in the snow. He turned, slowly, his eyes widening.
With a whispering hiss, the blade swept through the air.
SPLIT!
Curly's huge body remained standing, spurting a fountain of blood from the neck. His head rolled down the slope toward the trees, gathering snow as it went.
* * *
Do you have eyes of flesh? Do you see as humans see? Are your days like the days of humans, or your years like human years, that you seek out my iniquity and search for my sin?
Remember that my life is a breath; my eye will never again see good. The eye that beholds me will see me no more; while your eyes are upon me I shall be gone.
Have the gates of death been revealed to you, or have you seen the gates of deep darkness?
Who can bring a clean thing out of an unclean? No one can.
See, I will kill you; you have no hope. You will perish forever like your own dung; those who have seen you will say, where is he? You will fly away like a dream and not be found, you will be chased away like a vision of the night.
O that I might be sated with your flesh! Your loins full of milk and the marrow of your bones moist. The folds of your flesh clinging together. After your skin has been destroyed, then in your flesh I shall see God, whom I shall see on my side, and my eyes shall behold him, and not another.
The wolf possesses the land, the weak live in it. Their bodies are my prey. No one is so fierce as to stand before me. There is terror all around my teeth. Who can confront me and be safe?
Under the whole heaven, who?
22.
At the chart table in the Fairbanks Airport control tower, Dr. Katukan joined Chief Adashek, who was studying a topographical map of central Alaska.
"It's 200 miles to Caribou Mountain," said the Chief. "Highway Patrol says there's eight-foot drifts growing on Dalton Highway. They've shut it down north of the Yukon River."
"Are they looking for the plane?" asked Katukan.
"They've been alerted," said the Chief. "But don't count on anything. Plane could be anywhere in a twenty-mile radius of the last
The cage was empty. The bars in the front had been torn apart; a huge, gaping hole remained.
Jake whirled around, flashing the light in all directions.
The abomination was loose.
21.
Tiny balls of ice hung in Curly Ander's beard. In the frigid night air, the big burly trapper was working up a sweat. He set another log on the block, swung his axe and split it clean through the core. Then he set up and quartered each half, tossing them on the pile by the side of the cabin.
He'd been chopping wood for half an hour and the pile was getting high. Enough to warm me for a week, he thought. He paused to watch the smoke from his chimney feed the rolling clouds. The storm had been building all evening; he knew he might be shut in for more than a few days. Snowflakes whirled in the light of his lantern; a foot and a half mantled the eave above his head. It was coming fast.
He split six more logs, then stopped again. He stared off into the darkness of the rustling pines and down the trackless road that led up to his cabin.
He'd thought he'd heard something, though it was more a feeling than an actual sound. Like that sense he had when a grizzly was nearby. But the grizzlies are all asleep in their dens, he thought. Just like I should be.
The gusting wind whistled. He picked up the axe and split one last log. Then he slammed the blade into the block and left it there. He went to the woodpile, pulled on his caribou-leather mitts, and began stacking the logs to carry inside.
The wind blew snow up in his face as he bent over the pile. He loaded his arms with logs and stood up. Then he turned toward the cabin, and froze in his tracks.
The axe was gone.
Curly spilled his armful of logs in the snow. He turned, slowly, his eyes widening.
With a whispering hiss, the blade swept through the air.
SPLIT!
Curly's huge body remained standing, spurting a fountain of blood from the neck. His head rolled down the slope toward the trees, gathering snow as it went.
* * *
Do you have eyes of flesh? Do you see as humans see? Are your days like the days of humans, or your years like human years, that you seek out my iniquity and search for my sin?
Remember that my life is a breath; my eye will never again see good. The eye that beholds me will see me no more; while your eyes are upon me I shall be gone.
Have the gates of death been revealed to you, or have you seen the gates of deep darkness?
Who can bring a clean thing out of an unclean? No one can.
See, I will kill you; you have no hope. You will perish forever like your own dung; those who have seen you will say, where is he? You will fly away like a dream and not be found, you will be chased away like a vision of the night.
O that I might be sated with your flesh! Your loins full of milk and the marrow of your bones moist. The folds of your flesh clinging together. After your skin has been destroyed, then in your flesh I shall see God, whom I shall see on my side, and my eyes shall behold him, and not another.
The wolf possesses the land, the weak live in it. Their bodies are my prey. No one is so fierce as to stand before me. There is terror all around my teeth. Who can confront me and be safe?
Under the whole heaven, who?
22.
At the chart table in the Fairbanks Airport control tower, Dr. Katukan joined Chief Adashek, who was studying a topographical map of central Alaska.
"It's 200 miles to Caribou Mountain," said the Chief. "Highway Patrol says there's eight-foot drifts growing on Dalton Highway. They've shut it down north of the Yukon River."
"Are they looking for the plane?" asked Katukan.
"They've been alerted," said the Chief. "But don't count on anything. Plane could be anywhere in a twenty-mile radius of the last
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