A/N: My incessant internet stalking has finally paid off, I'm staying at redplanetes house! She's such a wondeful, kind, generous hostess.

"What is it like?" Ask you envious pitiful mortals out there in Jeepers Creepers land. What is it like? How can I describe the house of the legend herself, the living godess of great Jeepers Creepers fandom?! The brilliant writer who listens to our pathetic pleas of "more, please, more" as we addict ourselves to her wonderful fanfic while she looks down her aquiline nose arrogantly and consents, finally, to bestow upon us (the unworthy) another chapter of pure Grade-A monster porn. We lap it up and mewl our pitiful thanks, and she snorts and turns away to create another brilliant, tortured work of art.

How can I possibly describe it? These three facts oughta cover it.

1. It's a mess

2. It smells funny

3. She keeps a dead tarantula in the fridge

"Leaving"

I was able to stay in my old room. I got a vague idea of how long I had been locked away in my basement by how stale my chocolate had become. Some of my food looked like it had been gnawed on something, probably rats. I threw everything bad into the stove in disgust. I thought about eating something that had been sealed in a tin can but the effort of opening one just seemed too much. Besides I had given away my Swiss army knife. Stupid, I repeated pointlessly to myself. It still hurt to think about that, but at least he didn't "punish" me any further after that.

I did light a fire, which felt unbelievably good. I watched the flames flicker for several seconds, I enjoyed the feeling of being warm for the first time in weeks.

He was doing something that I was only vaguely aware of, but since he did not bother me I did not concern myself with him. For a while I just laid down, curled up protectively around myself and dozed.

When I woke up I had a weird kind of nervous energy. I got up, I paced around, sat back down, got up again.

I decided to put on clothes, it was getting dark and the cold was getting to me. Then I stopped, I saw the soap and washcloths I had bought. Why not? I still had some of water from the pond. I quickly heated the water up and gave myself a wonderfully refreshing sponge bath. I honestly couldn't remember the last time I bathed, I realized I smelled. I was out of it for so long. I even made the effort to wash my long messy hair. I washed my stomach and breasts quickly, hating how sore and swollen they felt. I sat and washed between my legs wincing and trying not to cry. I didn't want to cry.

Most of my clothes didn't fit. It was a very depressing fact. I could try to force them on but it was largely ineffective, and uncomfortable. I finally settled on soft, warm grey sweat pants and a large pajama shirt. When I was pulling on woolen socks and shoes I suddenly realized why I was so unusually energetic, even happy: He ripped the chains off.

I could move, I could walk anywhere I wanted to. I got up and walked around the room for the sheer novelty of it. I walked out of the room, up and down the hallway, where I saw the Creeper loading his truck with what looked like a small armory. I even walked into the horrible basement, and I was shocked by how cold it was. It was like a meat locker. I quickly walked up to my warm classroom, savoring every free step.

Maybe it was a little absurd to feel so happy but it just felt so incredible to be free of those awful chains, to not feel like an animal. I wanted to dance around; I twirled, enjoying a simple movement that had been denied to me for so long. I sat down, got up, sat down again, and then got up again. I just couldn't sit still; I had to try out my legs, as if they were brand new. However the constant movement caught up with me. I tired quickly and settled onto the old dry hay to sleep.

I woke up and the first thought that crossed my mind was extremely odd. It doesn't hurt as much. I stirred slightly and pondered some more. Sure I feel crampy and tired and swollen all over. Not to mention sore from being forced to play squeeze and squish with the Creeper, but shortly before he would have simply pounded into me, hurting me. I guessed it was punishment for running away. Maybe he's no longer angry, maybe his harsh control would begin to loosen…

He stayed out for a long time. I rested and slept a lot, reveling in the fact that I was in a warm, dry room while he labored in the bitter cold and snow outside. I stretched my legs; I began to feel a little hope again.

He came in a while later, when it seemed that I was drifting permanently off to sleep. I immediately jerked up and faced him. After remembering my legs were free I quickly scrambled up too. He jerked his head toward my things, snow fell off the brim of his hat. "Pack," he ordered, "leaving." He said in his usual brusque style.

The fire was going nicely, plus I was very sleepy. "Nooo" I moaned. "Please, let me stay, at least for the night., it's cold and it's late. Please." I begged.

He seemed to consider. Then he held up a pair of hobbles.

I shrieked and ran. Surprised, he caught me. I struggled harder than I did from the forced sex earlier. I screamed so loud dust fell from the ceiling. After he was done chasing me around the room he wrestled me to the ground and shook the chains in my face. He bared his teeth and held my legs.

"Noooo", I wailed, "No, no, God, no. Please." I begged. His actions plunged me again into the depths of despair. I kicked impotently. "Stay," he ordered and snapped the chains on quickly. I sobbed, how dumb of me to forget the extra pairs he had made.

He pushed me down into the hay. "Stay,"" he repeated. Then he grabbed everything I owned except some of the food and shoved it roughly into my bags. I winced; I usually packed very neatly, taking pleasure in counting and inventorying everything. He merely squeezed everything messily into my luggage, and carried it off to his car.

He came back to sniff me, and then lick me and pull at my hair. "Stay," he said for a third and final time, then bared his teeth at left.

As I quieted down (and tugged despondently at my chains) I thought of what he did. He had taken everything that needed to be taken and loaded it into his car, yet he left me behind.

I wasn't foolish enough to believe that he intended to leave me behind forever but he had given into my pleas, maybe seeing the wisdom of giving me much needed rest and warmth. Whatever his reasons it was clear that he wasn't taking any chances. I knew that all entrances would be firmly locked, and I would only be allowed to hobble around. He had learned from my escape.

I was very uneasy with leaving her alone for such a long time, however when she begged I could see the advantages of it. Humans are fragile, and humans are weak. Perhaps it is better, for her and the child, to have food and fire and rest.

I felt a little better in my decision when the snow started to fall softly again. I scowled as I flicked on my windshield wipers. I saw snow a few times, mostly patches of unmelted spots in the mountains, but this was too much. I disliked it, and the truck is hardly prepared to deal with it.

However the girl and I have stayed at The Hive for too long, we might start attracting an inordinate amount of attention, and before long too curious humans will come poking around. While that it is a fun thing when I am home it's less amusing when they break in and run back out to tell everyone. That is always exasperating. Besides I don't want anyone around The Breeder.

The problem with human buildings, or indeed any human creations, is that they wear away far too quickly and easily. The funny thing is they seemed obsessed with preservation, perhaps as a consequence of their ridiculously short life spans. Moreover they abandon many of their works, perfect for me, less so when they become uninhabitable after only a few short generations.

However The Breeder poses an extra problem. If a building falls on me (it's happened before) I can merely crawl out and eat to repair the damage. She cannot. I scout out my old locations, writing off anything that is has collapsed or seems in danger of collapsing, caves are usually a safe place but I've found something very recent and I want to make it mine.

It was a stroke of luck, as these finds usually are. I smelled something very interesting while I was flying low and quick. I circled around, drawn by a tantalizing aroma. I saw a single lonely house, a shack really, human debris lay scattered everywhere. I decided to investigate.

I looked around the little house cautiously, there was no one there, it too had many human things scattered about. I walked out, conscious of the fact a human could easily be watching through the thick tree cover, but not worried.

It didn't too seem old, it must have been very recently abandoned. Things, little of which seemed useful, were smashed and scattered everywhere. I could smell something very interesting up ahead, as well as less interesting things. A subtle, but unpleasant smell seemed to be everywhere, some of it coming from the human debris. It was vaguely familiar, but I didn't investigate, the interesting smell was getting closer. It was a human.

The human was laying there, he was already dead, and already stiff. I poked him with my toes. He was cold, he should have began rotting by now, but laying in the snow preserved his meat somewhat. I sniffed, there was fear but it was very stale, fading away. His glassy green eyes stared out sightlessly. There were several leaky holes in him, as well as some slashes, some down to the bone.

I wondered what had happened, then I shrugged and began digging into him. I pried his torso open, trying to discern by sight if anything was good. Hmmm, the rot in him had spread farther that I thought and his heart was severely damaged. I ate part of his stomach. It was good but not warm.

There weren't many good things in him and I finished anything useful very quickly. As I started to rise something exploded noisily out of the woods to my right. Caught by surprise, I had my wings out and was flapping in a second. I was halfway airborne when I recognized my threat: a dog.

It was barking at me ferociously running back and forth over the body. I spread my wings to their fullest extent and screeched. I heard it whimper but it did not back away. It mock lunged and continued growling and making other threatening noises, I bared my teeth and he did the same. I was already hovering above it so I flapped a few times to gain altitude. It wasn't worth the fight. It could have the man carcass if it wanted; there was nothing good left it anyway. I circled the little clearing and I realized how isolated this spot was, the idea of using it came to me. I decided that this would be mine. I flew back to the Breeder with the dog's barking echoing in my ears.

It is a very long trip to my new place and the snow does not help. Twice I have to stop and lift the truck out of mud or snow. It is more difficult to find from the ground and at one point I decided to get up into the air and get my bearings. However I eventually found it and, after pushing the BEATNGU into some of the thick trees that surrounded the clearing, got hungry and ate two of the corpses in the back of my truck.

Humans cool remarkably quickly after death, and the weather is not helping. While I notice this tends to preserve them longer I miss hot, squirming meat.

In the morning I go back for the breeder.

Breadcrumbs

It felt like barely dawn when I felt a rough hand shaking me awake. I raised my head, I saw a horrifying monster, the sight was almost normal now. I rolled over and pulled my blanket over my head. "Five more minutes," I murmured.

For whatever reason he let actually sleep in a little longer. I heard him go down into the basement.

I was already awake. I yawned, stretched and sneezed from the dry hay I was laying on. I gathered up the food I had not eaten. I heard a rat scurry in the walls. Suddenly I was glad to be gone from here.

When I put all my food in a plastic bag I noticed how low on rations I was. My wallet was still with me, I could buy some more, I thought of the glint of gold from my debit card…

I got up from putting my food away, the chains jerked my legs harshly. I winced, shouldn't I be used to these by now? I thought of being pregnant forever, wearing these for the rest of my life, very depressing.

I checked the stove, mostly embers and ashes. I considered stirring them to put it out; it was probably safe but why risk it? I didn't want to cause a fire.

In a flash the idea came to me, why didn't I want to cause a fire?

I was acting before I could fully grasp what I had planned. I looked wildly around, an old tin can, perfect. The residual heat from the stove made it uncomfortable but I stuck my hand in, desperately trying to scrape up a weakly glowing ember. Don't go out, don't go out, I begged.

The little bit of fruit juice still at the bottom of the can nearly put it out. I almost cried out in a panic but sealed my lips and quickly dumped the ember on the dry hay bed. It glowed a little brighter.

Before it could catch however I smothered it with a piece of cloth, not enough to put it out, but enough to stop my whole bed from bursting into flames. The ember glowed weakly. I grabbed my bag of food, my wallet and a blanket from the bed. The ember pulsed in it's glowing, like something alive. I saw a thin wisp of smoke and piled more hay and the piece of cloth on it. I heard footsteps; before he could reach the door I quickly got out and shut it behind me, hoping that he didn't smell anything.

I grinned, way too brightly. "I'm ready!" I chirped cheerfully. He sniffed and my heart nearly stopped, but to my relief he simply noticed my anxiety, which I had almost constantly now. He took my arm and led me outside.

When we were far enough from the school building he held out his arms to me, as if he wanted to embrace me, I couldn't help glancing guiltily back at the building. No smoke, no fire. Yet.

Perhaps interpreting this as reluctance he grabbed me, holding me in his arms. Before I realized what was happening he had lifted me up, I saw him smile down at me, admiring my swollen belly. I realized what would happen next but I still screamed when he took off.

The world spun dizzily away from me and my stomach spun with it. He laughed in my ear. The ground became smaller and smaller, I squeezed my eyes shut, I've always hated heights.

I was shocked by how swiftly he flew, a squat grey building passed under us in a second. I realized the significance of this. "Stop, STOP!" I screamed. He circled once around in surprise and studied me. Maybe he saw my panic and nausea. I think he assumed I would throw up because he took me back down and edged away from me.

I paused a moment to recover, then immediately resumed my way too cheerful demeanor. I pointed to the supermarket some distance away. "I need more food, I'm going to go shop okay?" and started off.

Visibly I could see him thrown off my rapid shift in manner. He was immediately suspicious. He grabbed my arm and dragged me instantly back. "No." he replied. I tried to squirm away but he tightened his grip so much my arm went numb and yanked me to him. I tried whining, "But I need more food." I pleaded. His face merely clouded with more suspicion. "No." he said forcefully. "Will get you food."

I put on an expression of incredulity mixed with disdain. "Oh you mean like last time? Because those old Cold War emergency rations were sooo tasty." I sneered sarcastically, and then tried to back away.

He grabbed me with both arms and bared his teeth involuntarily. "No." he said with an enraged whisper. He wasn't about to let me go, not after last time. I was still on notice after my escape attempt. I was cowed by his anger. "Please," I whisper but he began lifting me up again. I screamed the first thing that came to mind. "Choco rations low, double-plus ungood!" I shrieked and shook my food bag hysterically. Where the hell did that come from?! Guess I was craving chocolate more that I thought.

He looked utterly bewildered. I decided to press home my point. "I'm hungry, I'll go crazy, and I'll die." I stoked my belly, "He'll die."

He sighed and studied me, obviously trying to figure a way out of the situation. Finally he grudgingly grabbed my arm and dragged me to the supermarket. I tried to walk on my own but he would not let me. He wouldn't let me go.

To my shock he tried to walk in with me to the supermarket! I quickly shook him off and turned to face him. "You can't go in here!" I cried in surprise in horror. He glanced at the store then back at me. He grabbed my shoulders. "Quickly." He ordered harshly.

"Okay, um," I glanced down at the chain still around my ankles, then back up to him.

The look on his face hardened. There was no way in hell was he going to take them off. I was visibly pregnant, in pajamas, with an animal hobble around my ankles; sure I'm not going to attract attention.

Actually, attracting attention was exactly what I wanted. Not too much, for if I was held and questioned then he would come storming in, looking for me. He thought I was going to run off, well there was little chance of that, even if my legs were free. My plan was more subtle that that.

I took the blanket and wrapped it around myself. It looked unusual, but I felt very self-conscious. Plan or no plan I hated public attention. I blushed slightly.

The store was practically empty, too early in the morning. Maybe no one would notice, after all how often do you notice someone's feet? But they clinked gently and made me move awkwardly.

I reminded myself I was pressed for time. I don't know when he would consider me in here long enough but he might come bursting in after five minutes. I grabbed a basket. I stared blankly at the candy and canned food section, after all I was faking my severe food necessity. I shook my head, it didn't matter, and I started grabbing stuff almost randomly off shelves. When I had enough to last me for a while I headed off to the cashier.

To my surprise I saw the same cashier I had last time. I was drawn vaguely towards her for some reason. She saw me and a look of recognition crossed her face. My throat closed, suddenly I realized how hard it was to interact with humans. She gave me a standard "How are you?"

In another lifetime I would have automatically said something like "Fine and you?" but even that simple response seemed beyond me. I blinked stupidly and licked my lips nervously, like an actress that forgot her lines. The cashier raised an eyebrow.

She glanced at my basket. "I'm sorry honey, this line's for fifteen items or less."

I'm merely blinked again. It took me a few moments to get it, "What?" I asked stupidly.

She sighed and pointed to the glowing sign above me. It said…fifteen items or less. I glanced outside nervously. To my horror he was standing in plain sight, although with his hat and coat pulled over his face. He could come rushing in at any moment.

I started to panic. A normal, rational person would have immediately apologized and moved her basket to another aisle. Of course I was neither normal nor completely rational at the moment. I started freaking out. It felt like an eternity since I entered the store, he would come after me.

The cashier cut me off in mid-panic, "Since yer the only person in the store I'll make an exception," and started ringing me up. She smiled at me, but it was the kind of nervous smile you give to a dog that might bite. I glanced out the glass doors; he was still there, pacing restlessly.

She seemed unbearably slow, I wanted to scream at her, I wished I hadn't gotten so many things. She seemed to sense my anxiety because she glanced up to me repeatedly. After she was done and a boy bagged my things I handed her my card with a trembling hand. I felt like I was committing an enormous sin.

She glanced at my card. As soon as she saw the letters "ATM" she shook her head. "I'm sorry honey we don't accept debit." I lost it, at least for a second.

With the card still and my hand I slammed my hands down onto the corner. "PLEASE!" I shrieked, she jumped back. I coughed and lowered my voice. "Please, just use it as credit, I know you can, I've done it before." I couldn't quite keep the hysteria out of my voice.

She gave me a long, hard look, asked for some ID, which I provided, then shrugged and swiped the card. A receipt popped up and I nearly collapsed with relief. She told me to have a nice day.

I could feel eyes on me, and I could hear the other cashiers muttering. I thought I caught a few words. "What's with…blanket…chain?…weirdo." I wrapped the blanket around myself. The bag boy didn't hand me my groceries. "I can take it to your car ma'am." He said with rote politeness.

"NO!" I screamed, gabbed the bags and ran out of that store as fast as the hobble would let me.

The Moonshine Monster

I don't know if my first plan worked, I didn't really know what I was doing. I could have smothered the fire completely, or it could just burn my bed and nothing else.

Or it could burn the whole cursed building down.

I don't know, I'm not an expert on fire. I just hoped it would smolder quietly, so to not gain his attention, and then burn to the ground. Or burn enough to gain outside attention when we were far enough away.

I knew my second plan would work; it was more likely at any rate. My purchase would show up on my account, it would show where I made my purchase. I hoped I had overdrawn, and then the bank would send letters to my family's house. It would show them that I was still alive, that I was still here. It would bring someone to that place.

My family must know I'm missing by now. While I've totally lost track of the time it's been months at least. Surely someone noticed that I've gone.

The first time I could have used the debit card I didn't. I decided against it, I didn't want someone that I possibly loved and cared about tracking me down and running into him. It was the mature, adult thing to do, putting others before myself.

But after their torture, the weeks and weeks in chains, I couldn't stand it any longer. I gave in. I advertised where I was. I prayed to God this decision wouldn't lead to more deaths, that in my desperation I didn't just kill someone I loved.

At least the purchase would take a while to show up, and we'd be far away from the store by then. He took me very far away. We flew for what seemed like hours. I suppose I should have appreciated the amazement of flying without a machine, but at the time all I noticed was the bugs that flew into my face and cold winter air that made me shiver.

The Creeper's wandering hands didn't help.

The place he flew me to was very isolated. It looked like a small natural clearing in a heavy forest. Some of the trees were bare, which gave the place a desolate look, but enough were still green to give me the feeling of cover, thus security.

There was a small shack in the clearing, and it was surrounded with junk.

I could smell something odd, it wasn't a pleasant smell, at least to me, but ever since I've been pregnant I've smelled perfectly normal things that suddenly seem loathsome to me, so I ignored it for a moment and considered my surroundings.

The shack was constructed mostly with what looked like a tin or aluminum gardening shed, along with plywood. It didn't look like much from outside but the inside was surprisingly comfortable, with a thick carpet underneath my feet, a ratty, but soft looking couch. Blankets, sheets, bookcases full of food, books and knickknacks and tools. It was even reasonably sanitary.

But it was a total mess.

I wondered at how everything looked thrown around, ransacked. Tin cans lay scattered over the floor, a few loose pages of books lay here in there. Maybe the Creeper did this, but I saw no body or body parts. I straightened the things up a little (I was going to live here after all). I noticed there was dog food in the shack, and found an extremely useful butane lighter.

I went back outside; the Creeper had pushed his truck as far as he could into the woods and was unloading several things including my bags.

The smell was definitely stronger out here, and it was definitely familiar. I sniffed but couldn't quite pin it down. I searched my memory, I was reminded a little of home. The objects were also familiar. It was mostly common everyday objects; funnels, rubber and metal tubing, wooden barrels. Some of it looked like it had been a metal tank at one point, but like the house the objects lay scattered, but these were more smashed up.

Another smell joined the first one, formed an even more unpleasant undercurrent. I was able to recognize it more quickly. I had smelled it countless times since this whole ordeal. Human noses are good at detecting it. I gagged a little.

Death.

I saw crows, I was little surprised, since being stuck in the basement I haven't seen them for a while. They crowded around something on the ground and fought voraciously among themselves. I should have known, I should have guessed, but I went to inspect it anyway. The crows cawed angrily at me.

I think it was a man but he had been picked at and was rotting. His eyes were already gone.

The Creeper stood next to me. I would have told him off but I knew there was no point; he would just eat unashamedly as usual.

Still I felt a little guilty. I would be living in this man's home, using his stuff. He had killed him so I could gain a little comfort.

Before I could say anything a loud baying made us both jump. However the Creeper reacted much quicker. He grabbed me and pushed me behind him. He spread his wings up and shook them menacingly. He made an awful hissing-growling noise from deep within his throat. I heard a whimper, I peeked over his shoulder.

To my surprise I saw a dog. It wasn't unusually large, pretty average sized for a dog, but it was very compact and powerful looking, with strong, broad jaws.

I once read a book about dogs shortly after my family got one. I learned all about their body and facial expressions because I loved our dog and desperately wanted to know everything about it. I could tell this dog was aggressive, it was baring its teeth, but I could tell it was very afraid too. Its tail was in between its legs and it was backing off rapidly. The Creeper, with his big wings and bizarre smell must have frightened him badly.

I wanted to speak soothingly to it, maybe even try and pet it, but the monster shoved me back. He kept stepping forward shaking his wings and hissing menacingly. I noticed for the first time his wings were translucent orange in the light, with hundreds of little blood vessels in the membranes.

At one point the dog held its ground and refused to back off any farther. That was at the edge of the clearing, next to the corpse. The Creeper immediately pulled me away from him. He herded me into the shack, "Stay," he ordered, and at first I thought he was talking to the dog, but with a sudden dispiriting realization I realized he was talking to me, the disobedient human.

The dog kept his distance, but continued to bark. I stayed in the shack while the Creeper went back to his truck. I obeyed; I could see he was afraid of it attacking me.

But my eyes could not stray from the dog.

The crows had flown into the trees, mostly silent but with the occasional disgruntled sounding caw. Every time they tried to land on the corpse the dog barked and chased them away.

I thought at first the dog wanted the meat, to eat whatever was left of the man but from what I could see he didn't seem to be eating it. He would nudge the body, and run his paws over it, then howl despairingly.

Tears sprang unexpectedly to my eyes. I noticed the dog had a long red streak down its powerful looking shoulder. I told myself not to be so sentimental, perhaps he merely wanted to eat the corpse after all, but despite all the bad things that had happened to me, or maybe because of them, I felt unusually tender-hearted toward the animal. I desperately wanted to pet it now.

Then I saw the Creeper moving toward him. In his hands was long knife.

"NO!" I screamed at him and staggered to my feet. The Creeper paused. The dog paused. I was moving as fast as I could, stumbling and tripping over the hobbles. He started toward me, I could see the enormous knife in his hand, a small sword practically, and the dog began barking again, not understanding but sensing another confrontation.

"Don't kill it!" begged throwing up my hands. He pointed angrily to the shed, "Go back," he ordered, I merely moved closer and begged once more. He shook his head and wheeled on the dog again, I knew how quick he would be, in a few seconds he would gut the dog. It growled and whimpered.

It was hard and tiring but I rushed over, he tried to stop me from interfering. I did the only thing that came to mind. I pointed to the thick trees where the dog had come. Without realizing it I had used the same gesture and command as the Creeper. "Go back dog." I ordered in a loud, strong voice.

To the surprise of both of us, the dog obeyed.

=--==-=--==-=-=--==-=-=-=--=--=-=-=--=--=

I began to wonder about this place more and more. I felt it was familiar enough, if only my brain could solve the puzzle. I started looking at the stuff scattered around the shack. It looked like junk and it smelled like rot. However it wasn't the rotten-meat smell of the man. It smelled like rotten grain. I sniffed it, puzzled.

The Creeper helped pick up, he took any bits that seemed interesting and put it in a box his car. Then he shoved everything into a pile.

I thought of the man, and the man's corpse, surely the dog belonged to him, but why would he live out here in such a desolate place? I thought of the dog, probably he would come back, try and defend the man's corpse and maybe try to "wake" him again. I felt a surge of sympathy for the animal, and I was lonely. An idea came to mind.

I had remembered the dog food in the shack; I started to gather it up. Behind it I saw food that wasn't canned. Intrigued, I moved the dog food aside and I saw bags of grain and corn, sugar, yeast…suddenly it dawned on me. This was a still.

I went back outside , the dog wasn't back yet, but I looked at the pile of junk and suddenly realized what everything was for. I didn't know much about alcohol (for I was sure that was the source of the other rotting smell) but it seemed like this was the equipment you made it with. I recognized the smell as fermentation.

As I waited for the dog to return I spread out a blanket on the cold ground and sat. I wondered at this place. It was a long way from anywhere, so maybe the man was doing this illegally? What were the laws about alcohol in this state? I searched my mind but couldn't remember. A lot of other memories did come to me though. I remember reading about people who cooked up illegal, untaxable alcohol in the backwoods. Usually on public land so their own wasn't seized if they were caught. The more I thought about it the more it made sense, "So we're in a federal forest," I murmured, the Creeper looked at me, but I'm sure the words meant nothing to him.

Then he had killed the moonshiner, and injured his dog. The crows began to descend on the corpse again.

Dog

The dog did not come back. I had waited all night, till I fell asleep and nearly froze on the snowy ground. I remember the Creeper picking me up and carrying me to the couch into the moonshiner's shack. He wrapped a blanket tightly around me. I fell asleep in the shack.

Brother

His father had woken him up bright and early. His body really, really wished he could have slept in, but he shook himself out of such selfish thoughts. He had a job to do.

His family was nice enough to make him breakfast, and he winced when he remembered that he had to call his work. The explanation was long and lengthy but they finally accepted his answer. He was a fairly good employee after all, and it was an emergency. Fuck it, if he had to quit, or be fired, he would take it, he could always get another job elsewhere. This was more important.

He dismissed the job from his mind, he had more pressinng matters. His brother and father ran around the house arranging everything. Miguel showered and dressed. He noticed the longer he was awake the less tired he became, more focused. A weird sense of optimism also took a hold of him. He surely was going to find her, he had to, even though from an intellectual standpoint he could see how grim his actual chances were.

When he was ready and packed (they lent him some extra clothes) his brother took him aside first.

"Here is the keys to my truck, and don't start arguing with me," he cut off Miguel before he could start. "It looks like crap but it's more reliable, sturdier, more easily fixed, better mileage, the works. And," he added, "better maintained." Miguel did not argue, for his little brother always showed mechanical aptitude. He was also surprisingly touched. He embraced him on the way out.

Before he could leave however his father pulled him aside.

"Cooper's four rules." he demanded abruptly.

"Wha-?" he was bewildered, then realized as his father impatiently pushed him. "C'mon, c'mon you know!"

"Oh right," he said still taken by surprise. "um, number one the gun is always loaded."

His father smiled and nodded in satisfaction.

"Two, never point at anything you're not gonna shoot, three, uh, finger off the trigger until on the target, four, know your target."

"And what's behind it." His father added, but still kept his approving smile. "Thank God I taught you all something useful. When's the last time we've gone shooting?" he demanded.

Miguel winced, "Not for a while." he admitted. "And I haven't really gone on my own." His father gave a small disapproving sound but shrugged. "It'll have to do, at least you're not totally ignorant." his eyes suddenly got a misty look, "I should have taken the girls more, maybe given Maria something..." his voice trailed off in regret and sadness. Miguel winced in sympathy but supressed his tears, his father did likewise.

"Here," he said presenting him with a .45 Glock and plenty of ammunition, "and take this," he pushed a rifle case towards him with his feet. Miguel was more than a little taken aback but his father contiued without noticing, "It should fit under your brother's car's seat, keep it out of sight." The young man examined the failry unused 30-.06, aimed it carefully at the floor, examined the barrel and pulled back the lever. Perfect.

"If it looks like you're gonna get into a fight, use that first." His father instructed

As he was leaving they seemed to be in a rush to give him everything he could possibly need.

His brother had given him his truck, his father his guns, however one last family member had to greet him on the way out.

Miguel's father stiffened, "Mom..." he said, but she brushed off his protests and approached her grandson.

"I know I can't stop you," her voice wavered and almost broke, "but I know you have to go." Alberto and his father looked on in amazement. Miguel noticed she used a cane, before he could ask she read his thoughts and dismissed them. "Just getting old, it's a part of life," her eyes seemed to wander and grow misty for a moment, then refocused on him.

"When things get wierd, and trust me they will, don't give up, don't question your sanity either, what you see is real." She licked her lips and hesitated, tears welled in her eyes and she had to struggle to get the words out. "I won't tell you exactly what you're facing because you will never believe me, but if it looks like you're going to lose just run, run away, even-" She stumbled "even if it means leaving your sister behind."

The whole family stood in shocked silenece, Miguel could barely comprehend her rambling words. His father stepped forward, as if to restrain her. "Mom," he began again but Miguel's granmother shook him off. "Listen!", "Mom the doc said you gotta rest-" "Just listen to me!" she shrieked, "Maria is still alive, she's not dead! She can be brought back to us." and she said this with such impassioned certainty that for a moment the family believed her, desperately needed to believe her. His grandmother looked at him with wide, frantic eyes and clutched her shoulders. "She won't be killed, but you can be, so if push comes to shove then leave her, she won't be harmed. Do you understand? Promise me!"

Miguel mumbled a hasty promise and pried her hands off of him. He gave a bewildered glance to his father, who merely returned it.

After a moment Miguel disentangled himself from his family. "I'm off then," he said somewhat awkwardly. His younger brother gave him a hug. "Good luck," he whispered, his father hugged him too, but silently. His grandmother merely brushed the long silver hair out her eyes and gave him another cryptic, but encouraging remark, "You will find her, it won't be easy, but I know you can do it."

His brother waved to him, "Mom's family said they're praying for you," he grinned "and said to call them if you need anything!"

"Call us too!" his father called out, "call us if you need money or help, or anything."

He could see them all in the rearview mirror before the truck twisted around a bend in the narrow shabby road.

Dog (continued)

I wake up early in the morning, snow has fallen and muffled everything. The man's corpse has been buried. The chains are so cold they stick to my skin. My bare feet are freezing.

The Creeper did not lock me into the shack, and it is so cold I don't see how I can get out, or even move very far. So I stayed inside and reorganized the shack.

I open a can of dog food and place it carefully outside the door of the shack.

----------------------------------

You did the right thing.

I did not.

Yes you did and you know it.

I told a boy to abandon his sister to Him.

If it looked like he was going to be killed. Do you want to lose two grandchildren?

The old woman broke down in sobs.

Hey I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I know this is hard, I love them too, but trust me, that was the right thing to do.

I trust you, but it doesn't make this any easier.

I know.

You of all people should know how hard it is to abandon a sibling.

...I know