Black Stump Ridge by John Manning; Forrest Hedrick

door. He reached down and touched one of the designs. It felt cool and slightly greasy. It shimmered as his skin made contact. He withdrew his hand. For a moment he felt as if he was suffering from a hangover. His stomach felt queasy. His head ached – a dull throb in his temples and at the back of his neck. The feeling left as quickly as he broke contact with the strange symbol.
    Intrigued, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a folding knife. He opened it and scraped at one of the shapes. His efforts separated one of the designs into two parts. The glow immediately faded from all of them. From beneath the steel plate he heard a scraping, shuffling noise that sounded like something large and flat slapping at water. Just as suddenly all was quiet. He looked at the metal fragments hanging from the edge of the blade, but there was nothing unusual about them.
    Shrugging, he folded the knife, put it into his pocket, and headed back to the house. He’d ask Fred about the strange markings in the morning.
     

 CHAPTER SIX
    Perdis watched from behind the screen door as the Jeep backed away from the store. The brake lights flared bright red as the truck stopped and then faded as it turned onto the gravel road leading into the hills. He had a bad feeling. Those boys were headed for trouble. Bleeding trouble. Killing trouble. He should have kept the keys, promise be damned. He should have turned them out; sent them packing back to the city. He shook his head as he turned the sign in the window from OPEN to CLOSED. What was done was done. It could not be undone.
    Suddenly, the hairs on his neck bristled as he heard the skritch of a match head being dragged across a coarse surface. He turned around. In the far back corner of the store a tall dark figure lit a cigarette. The brief flare revealed a ghastly face. The match’s flickering light was reflected from the figure’s one good eye. Deep lines and creases radiated from the crater of his right eye socket. A shock of white hair hung lank over a deeply furrowed forehead.
    The light went out as the shadow waved the match in the air. The cigarette tip glowed briefly, intensely, as the shadow drew in a deep breath.
    “Good job, Purdie.” The shadow’s deep rumbling voice sounded like rocks rubbing together. Acrid smoke surrounded the man’s head. “Think they’ll stick to Lawyer’s place?”
    The familiar voice did little to settle Perdis’ composure. “Mebbe. Cain’t say fer sure. I reckon it’ll depend on th’ huntin’. If’n it’s good enough, they’ll prob’ly stick close by. If not …” He let the rest hang in the air.
    The shadow took another deep drag. The flare of light threw his face into sharp relief, accenting the scars and furrows like a gruesome Halloween mask. “I hope you’re right. They’re city folk and that means they might get bored pretty easy. If they get bored they might go explorin’. Folk like that always stick their noses where they don’t belong.”
    “One of’em’s kin.”
    “Not to me. Not to mine.”
    “I promised his mama I’d keep an eye on him.”
    “Maybe you better make sure he don’t go wandering where he don’t belong, then. I ain’t beholdin’ to any promises you make.”
    “If you an’ yer boys keep back an’ leave’em alone, then it won’t matter if they stay put or go wanderin’. Won’t be nothin’ fer’em t’see.”
    The shadow stepped away from the curtain that divided the back storeroom from the rest of the shop and into the light. Jake Harper was an imposing figure of a man despite his facial disfigurement. Well over six feet tall, his two hundred and ten pounds included very little fat. His blue chambray shirt and khaki trousers always sported sharp creases.
    “Well, we’ll just have to see how it all plays out, won’t we.” Jake’s smile, unnaturally white, chilled Perdis. He squeezed Perdis’ shoulder as he walked by on his way to the door. “Yessir, we’ll just have to