Where Angels Fear to Tread9
"Sonuvabitch!" John stomped his boots on the sidewalk, knocking snow aside. He stared round, scowling. The night was cold, bitterly cold and a row of icicles was forming along the roof of the saloon. They glinted like silver teeth in the moonlight.
John shoved his hands into the pockets of his long black coat and strode across the thoroughfare to the hotel. "MCKAY!"
Rodney was just on his way up the stairs when the voice bellowed. He almost fell, startled but caught himself and turned to see the irate sheriff glaring round. "Sheppard?" He descended and walked over to the man clad entirely in black. "May I be of some assistance?"
John had to smile. Everyone else was cowering but not this fancy man. "Yes, you may. I can't find that scoundrel of a deputy and I need back-up so you're it. Let's go."
"What? I…excuse me, sheriff! Excuse me!" Rodney followed after the taller man. "If you are even remotely suggesting that I accompany you in the apprehension of this, this felon then you are greatly mistaken! I am not a lawman by any means! By any means!"
"Don't you want to prove your theories? There's some of that meteor rock out yonder where he's got his lair. Come on!"
"He…what? Meteor rock, you say?" Rodney paused again as he was confronted by a horse.
John had already mounted his and sat, looking down on the city man with a mixture of amusement and scorn. "Well? Don't tell me you don't know how to ride." To his astonishment Rodney smoothly mounted the dappled horse.
Rodney smiled. "First in my class in Canada. So…shall we?" Without another word he guided the animal into a brisk trot.
John laughed and followed after him.
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Evan snorted and blearily slid off the bed. The two girls were entangled, naked and asleep. He smirked, pulling on his clothes. He rubbed his eyes then abruptly swore as memory surfaced.
"Shit!" He quickly threw some dollars onto the table, added a few more as he had inadvertently hit one of the girls and left a mark. He exited the room of the brothel.
He descended the stairs and exited the building. The cold night air hit him like a slap, sobering him up better than any cup of coffee could. The moon was a bright circle of silver in the sky, lending its opalescent beams across the quiet town. The snow sparkled vivaciously. An owl hooted. It was a mournful sound, almost accusatory.
"Sheppard!" Evan called, but he knew it was too late. The sheriff had ridden out to apprehend the criminal without him. Swearing again Evan mounted his horse after grabbing his rifle, and sped into a gallop for the dark, distant hills.
If anything happened to Sheppard it would be his fault.
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"Extraordinary!"
"Hush!"
"This is quite the specimen!" Rodney enthused quietly. He was kneeling in the snow, running his hands over a chunk of rock that was extraterrestrial. He rummaged in his case and ran an instrument over it. The needle clicked but moved only a little. "Fascinating!"
"Keep a lid on it!" John snapped. He was crouched nearby, rifle in his hands and keen gaze locked on the abandoned mine. So far the snow was untrodden. If anything was in there it had yet to come out.
Rodney frowned and put aside his scientific instruments. "Alas this is just a meteoroid fragment. I was hoping that there would be more pieces of that mysterious object in the vicinity. You know, I did find Mrs. Sumner's theories about the creature quite interesting. If what Doctor Beckett said is true we may indeed have a most unusual opportunity here to—"
"Do you ever stop talking?" John flared quietly. "Here! I trust you know how to use one of these?"
Rodney stared down at the gun thrust into his hands. "Well, um, no, actually."
"What?" It was John's turn to stare at the other man.
Rodney shrugged. "I never had the use of one, not even in competition or in sport. I am a scientist, not a marksman!"
"Great, just great. Just cover me, all right? I'm gonna get a closer look. And be quiet!"
Rodney glared but scooted up on his knees, holding the gun and watching as John stealthily made his way towards the mine opening. "I told you I wasn't a lawman," he muttered under his breath. His hands were shaking slightly as he held the gun, tracking John's motions against the darkness of the shadows. The moonlight sparkled off the snow.
John approached cautiously, rifle at the ready. He wasn't going to take any chances. Not with a man who could withstand two bullet wounds and walk away from that unscathed. Hearing a noise he froze, becoming just another shadow in the darkness.
A figure was visible at the opening of the mine. It stepped out slowly, as if disorientated. It was a man, clad in black. An unusually pale man as the moonlight hit his face and revealed ghastly pallid skin and rather angular features. It turned its head suddenly as an audible gasp hit the silent air. John knew it could only be McKay and cursed silently. He moved quickly, rifle raised and aimed.
"Hold there! You are coming with me now!"
The man smiled and moved with surprising speed towards John.
John fired. He fired again. The rifle's loud report rent the air.
The man didn't slow or stop as he plowed into John and knocked him to the ground.
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The gunshot hit the air, echoing among the hills. Evan swore and rode harder. He jerked the reins, causing the horse to almost throw him off the saddle and the bridle bit in deep. Evan leapt off the animal and grabbed his rifle.
He broke into a run towards the source of the noise.
He hoped he wasn't too late.
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"Oh my God!" Rodney flew to his feet and ran towards the two men scuffling on the ground. He fire the gun, fired again. Bullets hit the snow and the two figures. He wasn't sure which one he hit as both men were clad in black until a swear word hit the air.
"Not me, damn it!" John winced at the bite of the bullet but fought to his feet. The man was on him again. He was impossibly strong and fast, but weakening as blood was oozing from the wounds John had inflicted with his rifle. Ignoring his own pain John swung his fists.
There was a fevered gleam on the man's face and his eyes were strange, more cat-like than human. There was some kind of deformity on his palm as he lifted his hand and tried to press it to John's chest. John wrenched free as a bullet from Rodney hit the attacker, momentarily distracting him.
John whirled, lunging for his rifle. Instead of shooting he wielded the weapon like a club and whacked the man on the side of the head.
The loud crack was audible.
The man fell to the ground, writhing and growling.
"Did I get him? Did I get him?" Rodney shouted, rushing towards the two men.
"Yeah, you did…and you got me!" John snarled, touching his arm as blood oozed down his sleeve.
"I did? Oh, sorry. Sorry about that." Rodney's Canadian accent was pronounced in the cold winter air.
"Sheppard! Sheppard!" Evan ran to the scene, gun aimed at the form on the ground.
"About fucking time, Lorne! See? It's a man! Not a ghost or phantom or wendigo! Get him trussed up and we'll get him into jail!"
