Florissant Colorado

2004

"I don't know Garth, what is it doing?" the phone was pinned between my ear and shoulder as I skimmed through my journal, checking past hunts that I had done for help for the goofy hunter friends of mine.

"It's eating hearts all through the month, not just around the full moon, and there's more deaths than any one anything could do," he replied, and I paused for a second at an entry from two years previously that matched the description he had given me. Animal attacks, missing hearts, more than a single person could kill.

"Alright dude, I got it. It's called a Skin Walker, they're kinda like cousins of werewolves. They change into dogs at will so watch the teeth. Let's see, they eat hearts like I eat chocolate, and it looks like you can kill them the same way you kill their cousins. Silver bullet or a silver knife, or a silver boomerang should do it," I snapped the leather bound book shut and set it on the table of the little motel room I had for the night.

"Thanks Becks, see ya later," came the oddly cheerful reply of the scrawny man on the other end of the line before it was hung up. Really, I worry about that boy. How did he even become a hunter in the first place? Oh yeah, he killed the tooth fairy.

I sat down in the chair and flipped open my laptop, pulling open the articles that had brought me to the town in the first place.

A woman had been killed, reportedly by her dead husband, who had left her several thousand dollars. His grave had been dug up, the body missing. Zombie fanatics were flocking to the place, but when her brother had been killed in the same mutilating, head ripping off manner some of them backed off in fear. After the third murder, the woman's sister, I had shown up as FBI and started asking questions, and soon enough it became pretty clear what I was dealing with.

It's called a Revenant, they're a type of visible ghost, or sometimes a corpse that comes to life. They like to come after the people they knew in life. They're a major pain in the ass.

I had already met with the only sibling left, the youngest, another brother, and from his actions and the evidence I had pulled up it was not an accidental death. Which would explain why Mr. Delaware was up and about. He only struck every two days previously, and I was banking on that holding true for a third time.

After checking over the facts one last time I loaded my hand gun with silver bullets and started packing what I would need for the night. Six silver rail road styled nails found themselves in a back pack alongside a hammer, a canister of salt, and a hand gun. Two flat knives, both made of iron, were dropped in my boots, silver ones tucked away into my trench coat. I was hunting a Revenant, so silver was needed, but iron worked on dead things too. Usually.

It was dark when I left the hotel and unlocked my car, a fixed up Chivelle from Bobby's. From there it was a short trip to the poor bastards house where I parked across the street and shut everything down, gun in hand and heater shut off. Unfortunate, but necessary, even in Colorado's thirty degree weather. I didn't want to be seen by anyone if it could be helped.

Somehow the local police had come to the correct conclusion that the Revenant would strike there next, which only made my job all the harder. With a sigh I realized it wasn't going to be as easy as I had hoped to kill the thing. So I stepped out of my car and went to the truck, grabbing a small shovel quickly and started off, circling around the back of the house to set everything up for my little friend.

Revenants suck. And their bites? Hurt like a bitch, as I discovered while grappling with one on the floor. Thankfully it's none toxic and won't turn you into a zombie, but god damn it was like there was acid in its teeth.

John, the twenty something year old the bastard was targeting, was stuck cowering in a corner, unloaded shot gun in hand and unconscious/dead police officers around him, staring at me while I managed to kick the Revenant off of me and scramble to my feet.

"C'mon," I lunged and he yelped when I grabbed his hand, yanking the kid harshly out the door and taking off, "That thing is after you, and we're going to use that to our advantage."

He stared at me for a second, stumbling over a root when the Rev. busted out the back door behind us and picking up his pace significantly.

"You're that woman from the FBI," he ducked when I did, avoiding a branch as we hit the patch of trees behind his house.

"That's right," I confirmed, dragging him through a sharp left, "I've dealt with these things before, and I set a trap up before coming here, that's why I was late. You're going to have to trust me now okay?" he nodded in me peripheral vision, "When I say jump, jump as far as you can."

I could hear the thing coming after us, tearing through forest in search of its target. We were fast approaching the site I had set up, and the Revenant was gaining on us, I could hear it getting closer by the second. John was losing focus, running out of breath and power and stumbling again. It was like something out of a horror movie, the main character always happens to fall at the most inopportune moments.

"Jump!" I barked, and the kid did just that, leaping off the ground with me and landing on the other side of a well hidden trap. I ripped off my back pack and yanked it open, grabbing three steaks and the hammer as I spun to face the returned.

It was almost upon us and John shouted, trying to run away before it got to him, but it got to the trap first. The ground gave way beneath its feet and I lunged, tackling it down into the cheep wooden coffin and driving one of the silver rods through its hands.

It screamed in my ear and lashed out, dragging ragged nails down the side of my face and drawing more than a little bit of blood before I grabbed it other hand, ignoring the inhuman sound being ripped from its throat as I pinned its other limb. After that I went for the legs, sending more silver between the Tibia and the Fibula, and it was still thrashing. Another steak through the heart, and the sixth was sent through the revenants forehead and the sound finally stopped, even though it wasn't dead. Well, you know what I mean.

"Oh my god," I glanced up, hammer in one hand, to see John standing at the edge of the pit, staring down at me and his former pursuer. Then he ran.

With a sigh I stood up, grabbed the lid of coffin and hammered it into place with the pre-prepared nails already in it. The deed was done and the dead would no longer rise.

Soon enough I had the pit filled in and was gone, leaving the police to do as they liked. It was dead again, and it should stay dead that time around, and if it didn't no one could say I didn't try. My car was going to need to be cleaned out when I got the chance, and I really need a shower. My phone came out and I hit the first speed dial, holding it up to my ear and listening for the familiar greeting from the Roadhouse.

"Harvelle's Roadhouse, what can I do for you?" the other line picked up, the familiar voice of one of my friends overcoming the line.

"Hey Jo, I'm headed your way. Don't suppose you've got an extra ro-"

"Hello?" I paused midsentence and ceased my steps on the very edge of the woods. The voice was feint, weak, and croaking. I turned around, sliding a knife out of my jacket and facing the oncoming threat as a man emerged from woods behind me, coated in dirt and what I identified as blood. My grip on the knife tightened.

"Becca?" Jo asked, and I heard the clink of glass I settled onto the balls of my feet, waiting for a sign that the man wasn't human. I couldn't see any part of him except for his eyes and pale skin beneath smeared muck. His hair was stuck down to his skull and I couldn't tell what color it was at all.

"I'm gonna have to call you back."