Instead of panicking she got her teeth around the fingers and bit down hard enough to snap them off. She reeled backwards, knocking Dick to the floor in the process, and spat the fingertips into the corner of the room.
'Uh gud,' Mrs. Skye wheezed, her mouth covered in blood. 'Thur utt!' Dick had no idea what she meant but she could only seem to repeat over and over, 'thur utt! Thur utt!'
He heard a thud on the side of the cabin, the sound of bone hitting wood very hard. It came again a moment later and then he heard boards creak as someone stepped up onto the porch.
'Shut thuh dur!' Mrs. Skye screamed but it was too late. Dick laid her down gently on the floor (he'd been clutching her ever since they fell together) and stood up, wiping his sweaty palms on the backs of his pants. By the time he reached the door the assailant was already there.
He looked like a mountain climber'the purple ballistic nylon jacket, the rock boots, the ice axe hanging from his belt gave that away. He also looked like a sculpture of a human being made out of butter and left out in the rain. The flesh of his face had dripped away from the bone, revealing bare yellow skull in some places. One eye was completely obscured by collapsed skin. The other had the white cast of glaucoma. A few long black hairs dangled from the climber's face but none were left on top of his head.
The climber moved slowly, so slowly Dick thought he must be running on adrenaline himself as he dodged the climber's clumsy advances. He ducked under an outstretched arm and tried to knock the climber's legs out from under him, amazed at how quickly he was reacting, at how instinct just took over.
The climber grabbed his belt and clambered up onto Dick's back, forcing Dick down to the floor with his weight. Dick could hear his own explosive breathing but the climber made no sound at all. The weight on him shifted a little and he tried to get out from under but then he felt teeth digging into the roll of fat at his waist. The pain was bright and intense: a vibrant horror splashed across his desperate senses. Dick heaved and the climber rolled off of his back.
Blood seeped into his pants as he roared for breath, sucking down the rarefied mountain air to sustain his panic. Dick saw the ice axe hanging from the downed climber's belt and he wanted it, wanted it like a sixteen year old wants a new car.
The climber got one knee under himself and thrust out one arm for support. He was taking his time about getting up. Dick grabbed the axe and yanked. It came free of its quick release buckle. The rubberized grip felt great in his hand. Dick swung.
The pick end of the axe went right through the climber's jacket and into a hollow space that must have been his lung. Dick expected to get sprayed with arterial blood but only a little dry powder billowed from the wound. Dick yanked the axe back out but by the time he was ready to swing again the climber had regained his stance.
The next blow hit the climber in the shoulder, hard enough to make Dick's own arm vibrate with the impact. The climber didn't appear to even feel any pain. With his free arm he reached for Dick's throat. He would have gotten it, too, if Mrs. Skye hadn't chosen that moment to cave in the back of the climber's head with a ball peen hammer. The skull collapsed like cracked pottery and the climber slid to the floor, limp, seemingly boneless. Dick brandished the ice axe, ready to strike again but the climber didn't so much as twitch.
'Huh's dead, Wultuhs,' Mrs. Sky said, clutching her lip. She took her hand away and spat blood at the corpse at her feet.
'Call me Dick.' He felt no guilt, no remorse, just a high singing lightness in his stomach and a tension in his shoulders. He couldn't let go of the axe.
'Alrutt. Call muh Bleu. Layk thuh chis.'
Monster Nation
Chapter Seven