Black Stump Ridge by John Manning; Forrest Hedrick Page A

see.”
    Perdis heard the screen door slap shut. The porch boards creaked marking Jake’s exit into the gathering darkness. He shivered, but did not turn around.
    When he was sure that Jake was gone, he stepped outside. It was full dark in the cul-de-sac although the sunset glow still backlit the mountain. Overhead the stars shone in cold brilliance. The moon would be rising soon, not that there’d be that much to see. Tomorrow night would be the first night of the new moon. Tonight it would show only the faintest sliver. This was when most of the folks around here locked their doors early and kept them locked until daybreak. Livestock had to fend for themselves if they weren’t inside when the sun went down. A knock on the door by a neighbor in distress was more apt to be answered with the charity of two barrels of double-ought buck than with aid or compassion.
    The cold air brought a sense of urgency to Perdis’ bladder. It happened increasingly often as he got older. Moving as quickly as his seventy-eight-year-old legs would permit Perdis headed for the outhouse. Although his house had indoor plumbing — his father had put in a septic system and hooked up an electric pump on the well more than twenty years ago — he didn’t think he could make it up the steps and through the door in time. Best to be sure; best to take the shorter route.
    Perdis emerged from the outhouse a few moments later feeling much better. He looked skyward and frowned. He’d best lock up the store and call it a night. Normally, he’d just close the door and let the sign stand guard – not that anyone in these parts would let a CLOSED sign keep them from knocking on his door if they needed something. Theft was not a worry; kin didn’t steal from kin and nearly everyone in these parts was related in some way despite what Jake said earlier. Travelers on the black top that ran past his store were rare. Hardly anyone dared the narrow road through the hills after dark unless driven by desperate need.
    Dark of the moon, however, was not a normal time. Although he was miles from Black Stump Ridge he locked up tight when the moon was black.
    Of course, the dark of the moon didn’t bother Jake and his boys. That was their time. Perdis often wondered if they worried about the stories that kept decent folks off of the mountain and out of the woods during that time. He suspected they might, although he doubted that either of Jake’s boys would admit it to their old man.
    Perdis looked at the night sky one more time. He shook his head and headed for the store to lock up. As he walked up the sagging steps and into the store he debated taking the cash out of the drawer. It had been a slow day despite being the day before Thanksgiving. Not many folks were out looking for last minute items. Fred and his friends were his biggest sale of the week. Still, there was no sense in tempting anyone. He scooped out the bills, folded them, and slipped them into his pocket. As the register drawer closed, the overhead lights went out.
    He froze.
    The darkness was nearly total. Only a ghostly radiance from the coolers lit a small area at the back. It wasn’t a power failure, then, or the darkness would be complete.
    He heard a scratching noise, like claws on wood, coming from the area near the curtain that separated the shop from the storeroom. Something had come into the store while he was in the outhouse. Heart pounding, he tried to penetrate the darkness with his eyes as he reached for the twelve gauge double-barreled shotgun he kept beneath the counter. Given the opportunity, most creatures around here would avoid a man. He was between whatever it was and the door, however, and if the creature felt trapped or cornered it might attack. He relaxed somewhat as his hand closed around the stock.
    “Wasamatta, Coozin?” The voice was high-pitched and child-like.
    A small hunched figure leaped onto the counter. A jar of hard candies fell, exploding as it hit the floor.