Appalachian Grandpa The Bone Collector Part 4

As we watched it rear up on its boney, half-formed tail, even Grandpa looked like we might be sunk.

It had caught us, just like Grandpa had been afraid of, and now we would never be able to capture it. The Bone Collector would roam the woods like it had when it had been formed, and there wasn't a thing we could do to stop it. We had no net, no trap, and no amount of intent or desire could trap it without those things. We were done, but Grandpa wasn't quite ready to throw in the towel just yet.

He stepped in front of me; his brave display lessened some as he began to shake with fear.

"Run, run away, kid. Get out of here and live to fight another day. You can lure him to the stream and finish the spell there."

I gawked at him, not believing what I was hearing.

"Gramps, I don't even know how to do the warding, let alone the entrapment. You go; I'll stay and distract him."

Grandpa rolled his eyes, "Son, I'm not sure I could put enough distance between myself and the Collector before he steamrolled me. You can make it, though. Your legs are young, and you can," but our argument ended as something crashed into the side of the Bone Collector's head. It turned its horsey skull in the direction it had come from just in time to catch another one in the eye socket. The arrow rolled around like a carnival beanbag before falling to the forest floor.

As Glimmer stepped out of the woods, her face was set in determination.

"What are you waiting for?" she yelled, the Bone Collector swinging its horsey face from side to side as it tried to decide between us and Glimmer, "Get going. I will be your distraction!"

She fired another arrow at it, and when the bolt stuck into the boney nose hole on its head, it seemed to make up its mind.

It went after Glimmer with a loud snarl of rage and a grinding shuffle across the ground.

I watched it go, the trees snapping as he pushed through them, and I didn't even notice I was in the world until Grandpa slapped me across the back.

"Let's not waste what she's given us. Let's go, double time!"

We set off through the woods again, the sun already a blazing line behind the trees as we hurried for the river.

We had to get there before the sunset, and there was still a ways to go.

The forest was so quiet as we ran, the animals still taking shelter as they hid from the Bone Collector. Grandpa and I put on a burst of speed, running like rabbits as we heard the brook babbling ahead of us. As we broke through the tree line, we found the same stream that had saved me after the bottle tree had spread its curse to me. It was wide, ten feet from bank to bank, but the water was much less fierce today. The snow melt was minimal, and I was glad we wouldn't have to set up in the flowing rip current.

Grandad shrugged out of his bag and started taking things out frantically.

"Come on, kid. We have to get started."

I slid my own bag off, and Grandpa walked me through what we would need. Chalk, candles, blue and red herbs, kitchen matches, and a large bag of graveyard soil. Last but not least, Grandpa pulled out two jars of thick red liquid. The way it moved in the jar made me think it wasn't paint.

"Take this and make a circle," he said, handing me one of those chalk-spreading things, "It won't be perfect, but it will do the trick. I'll start setting up the candles and getting the sacrifice ready."

"Sacrifice?" I asked, bristling a little at the thought of Grandpa giving this thing something substantial.

Grandpa shook the jar of blood and held up the bag of grave soil, "The blood and the soil will be too much for him to resist. When he smells it, he'll come on the run. Set that circle up, and let's get going."

Before I could ask any questions, Grandpa pulled the last thing I’d have ever expected out of his bag.

It was a crumpled bucket of chicken bones from KFC, the remains of our dinner from a few nights ago back when things had still been sort of normal.

I dumped the chalk into the bucket and began to paint the circle we'd need to trap him. It would be broken by the water, but Grandpa assured me that it wouldn't be a problem. We weren't trying to keep it out. We were just trying to get it into the circle so we could trap it there. If we did everything right, it would be stuck in the mud and have no way out once he was in.

The sun was little more than an insinuation by the time we were done, and as Grandpa poured the grave soil and blood into the dented old bucket, we sat on the bank and waited for the Bone Collector.

"So," I asked, needing to hear the end, "What saved you last time?"

Grandpa watched the sun sink closer to the horizon, and I wasn't sure he was going to answer when finally he shook his head and laughed.

"The last person I would have ever expected." he told me, watching the sun and listening for our prey, "As I stood there and expected to be shredded by those bony legs, I heard something like a herd of rattlesnakes as their tails shook in unison. Someone came up behind me, his boots sounding hollow on the gravel lot, and I turned to see someone I never expected to see again. When I told you that I never saw the Snake Handler after that day in the old woman's house, that was a lie. I didn't see him for long, but I did see him again. He came walking through the quarry, the hissing, rattling bag slung over his shoulder, and when he tossed it down, the snakes inside went absolutely wild."

There was a sound out in the woods.

Was it a falling tree?

Or was it our quarry?

"He looked at me, not entirely without sympathy, and said, "You look like you could use some help. Lemme give you a hand, little buddy." He reached into the bag and drew out a writhing snake as long as his arm. It spit and writhed, trying to sink its fangs into him as he held it out towards the Bone Collector. When the snake began to glow, I realized what he meant to do. His prayers were loud and rambly, filled with the guttural language so loved by his God. When he began to draw the spirits from the Collector, I was in awe. The Bone Collector is, like most constructs, powered by spirits. The vengeful spirits of the natives whose graves were desecrated, the spirits of angry warriors, the souls of those lost in the needless pursuit of land. He drew them out, the creature turning too slow as its life force was drawn out by the collected serpents. He dropped each to the ground when he was done, dashing their skulls underfoot as he finished with them. The creature tried to lumber around me to get to him, but my circle blocked him. He rammed up against it, seeing the limits and testing the boundaries of my circle. Soon the ground was wet with the blood of those snakes, and the Bone Collector was beginning to slow. The souls he had access to were beginning to dwindle, and when the Snake Handler called out to me, I realized his intent."

"Now," he yelled, "you can get him now. Trap him and be done with it."

"So I finished my ward and trapped him right there. He sank into the ground as though the gravel pit had melted. He roared and thrashed, but the gravel accepted him gratefully. He was drug down into the earth, where he remained until they had to mess with things better left alone."

We sat and listened as Grandpa gathered his thoughts, the snapping of trees and the roar of parted earth growing closer.

"It sounds like you are the one that sealed him away then. Why did you say that it wasn't you?"

Grandpa snorted, "That thing would have had me dead to rights if I hadn't had the Snake Handler there. He weakened it so I could seal it away. Otherwise, I'd have died for sure. The Collector would have chewed me up and spit me out if he hadn't been there. It showed me how much I still had to learn and how much growing I still needed to do."

"Don't we all?" I said, standing up as the crashing got closer and the trees before us parted violently.

"Let's hope not," Grandpa said, beginning his chant as the Bone Collector broke the tree line.

The Bone Collector was now riddled with the remains of arrows. Glimmer had really given it to him; he looked like a porcupine as he broke cover. His boney nose sniffed the air, smelling the grave soil and the blood and making a beeline for it. Whether he knew we were here at all, I never knew, but as Grandpa's circle started to glow, the candle flames towered, and the air practically crackled with latent power. As the Bone Collector came fully into the trap, I took a step back as the mud began to grab at the massive creature.

The clay around the banks had become thick tendrils, the ends sprouting hands that grabbed at the thrashing creature. It bucked as he felt them grip him, trying to break their hold as they threatened to pull it into the river. They broke apart, but they seemed to redouble with each broken length. Each savage pull took him closer and closer to Grandpa, and my blood ran cold as the old man began to shake. What would happen if the Bone Collector got him? I'd have no chance if something happened to Grandpa. Was this the same realization he'd come to in the gravel pit? Was it my turn to grow some from this experience?

"He can't do it on his own," said a slimy voice, its tendrils as wet as the clay that now fought the Bone Collector, "He's just an old man. He doesn't have the strength to pull this off. On the other hand, you could help him if only you had the power."

As the voice spoke, it was like I could feel claws digging into my shoulders. The smell was rotten meat, decaying soil, and I knew who was speaking without seeing him. His slimy words were designed to trap me as readily as the mud would trap the Collector, but they were also right. I could see the mud hands beginning to lose ground, the Bone Collector making his way closer with each step. He'd get him at this rate. He'd get him, and then he'd get me.

"I could give you some more power and help you unlock your full potential, but I'll need something in return."

His voice was overpowering, just like his odor, and the longer he spoke, the more sense he made.

"Don't listen to him."

Grandpa's voice cracked across the voice of the Welder Gheist, and I felt his influence shrivel as it wafted away.

"He's right, though. You can help me, boy. Come stand with me, chant my words, and lend me your strength. You have power, more power than you know, and now is the time to use it. Come stand with me, and we’ll get rid of this bugaboo and go home."

My steps were shaky as I moved into the warm embrace of his circle. The air around him crackled, the circles vibrating through the soles of my feet, and when I put my hand on his shoulder, it felt like someone was slowly taking the air out of my lungs. I chanted with him, despite my lack of air, and as our spell built, the hands began to drag the Bone Collector into the red clay of the Georgia riverbank. It fought, that boney head thrashing as it tried to pull itself free from the clutching hands. The ground bubbled, and the mud frothed, and slowly but surely, the ground accepted its grizzly prize.

When it was all over, the two of us slumped to the ground, the mud churned and broken, like ground with jagged roots just beneath the surface.

"You did it," I breathed, looking over at Grandpa as his bird chest went up and down.

"We did it," Grandpa corrected, taking my hand and gripping it, "I couldn't have done it without you, boy. I'd have been lost again without your help. This is our victory, kid. You and I made this happen, never doubt it."

We were still panting and clutching hands when I heard the rhythmic slapping of bare feet coming up the river bank.

Glimmer smiled when she saw us, pulling both of us into a hug as she cried out in joy.

"You did it, Fisher! You and," she seemed to realize that she didn't have a name for me and attempted to find one, "Hunter." She finally settled on "Hunter and Fisher."

I laughed, no hunter by the most generous sense of the word, but Grandpa elbowed me before I could argue with her.

"Grandma always said that if one of the Moon Children gives a person a name, it's a great honor. Wear it with pride, Hunter."

As we sat on the bank, Glimmer's laughing at our mud and sweat-covered looks of astonished gratitude, I found that I did feel honored.