Savage Beasts of the Arctic Circle by Eddie Generous

Author:Eddie Generous [Generous, Eddie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Horror, Fiction, Cryptids
ISBN: 9781922323323
Google: ocRczQEACAAJ
Amazon: 1922323322
Goodreads: 51235874
Publisher: Severed Press
Published: 2020-02-12T06:00:00+00:00

15

Laura Chase met the three men tasked with finding the last three men who’d been tasked with finding men. She moved to Jordan in ’89 to work as a liaison between the townsfolk and the affairs of the mine. She was in charge of hiring locals and advising on the roads and keeping camp rooms clean and ready all year round.

The padlock on the big sliding doors on the sheet metal driving shed slid open and she hurried inside to hit the lights. To keep the locals happy and quiet, whenever a doable request came along, one that didn’t really put the mine out in any foreseeable way, she agreed and offered the use of equipment, occasionally even funds. So when the trio came to her—all had rifles in hands and one had a pistol jutting from a baggy pants pocket—and asked to use the plow cat, she agreed without hesitation.

They explained as they hurried out to the shed. Laura had gone home from the party after a few minutes. She’d stayed just long enough to eat and shake hands. If nothing else, the urgency was a nice distraction from the fact she lived in the middle of nowhere, a place where the idea of a ripping good time was Stompin’ Tom and stew bowls.

In the shed were a few vehicles, but the one of interest was a snow vehicle on two sets of tracks behind a snow blade, out back were an empty bed and a hitch for attachments. The cab sat three if everyone squished tight. They used it to keep the road clear whenever Helen Raincroft reported issues, as well as cleaning mine property lots.

“You know how to run it, Ben,” she said to Ben Jones.

Ben was nineteen and had worked a couple of years for the mine, full-time on-season, part-time off-season. He’d moved to Jordan with his parents when he was twelve. With him were Ron Komeak—forty, Jordan’s deputy-mayor, cousin of Ray Komeak—and Todd Felix—thirty-nine, originally of Silverton, Australia, moved to Jordan for a job in the mine in 1982.

Ben accepted the key and set his rifle in the bed of the plow cat. His jacket clinked with rounds as he moved. “Thanks,” he said to Laura and swung open the driver’s door.

The temperature had fallen far enough that their breaths came out in great white puffs under the shed lights. The moon was less than a third and it hid behind a roving bank of clouds that came and settled for much of the spring until summer’s double digit temperatures hit and the sun shined both day and night.

Todd pulled the pistol from his pocket and held in his left hand as he slid into the middle seat, his rifle pointed at the ceiling, stock on the floor, barrel pressed against his knee. Ron climbed in after him, thought better of it, and got to put his rifle in the bed of the plow cat. He squeezed and yanked the door behind him. The latch closed, flattening his right side.

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