Mountain Man

Future problems require primitive solutions.

“We don’t take kindly to your types around here,” the disembodied voice crackled matter-of-factly over a horn loudspeaker mounted next to the barricaded door. Ominous sounds of rustling leaves and menacing snarls floated up from further down the mountainside. Jim and Alexa fixed each other with hysterical glares; terror etched upon every inch of their faces.

“C’mon, man!” Jim pleaded frantically. “They’re going to be here any minute!”

“Shoulda thought o’ that before you aggravated ‘em,” came the remorseless retort.

“Please! Our ship crashed not far from here! They ate all the other crewmembers! You’ve gotta let us in before they get us too!”

“Can’t help ya. I’ve learned it’s best to jus’ mind my own business.”

Alexa screamed in terrified aggravation. “They’re going to kill us, you bastard! How can you be so heartless?!”

Several beats of silence elapsed, fraught with urgency as the ghoulish horde shambled ever closer. Suddenly, with a series of discordant clanks and squeals, the door swung inward. A savage figure stepped into view. He had a bushy and unkempt beard, straggly hair that fell past his shoulders, and was clad in what appeared to be fringed buffalo leather; like a wild mountain man of the old American frontier. Despite his ferocious appearance, a pair of intelligent eyes examined the two fugitives, devoting an inordinate amount of time to leering at Alexa in the skintight flight suit that accentuated her more feminine assets.

“This here yer wife?” the stranger asked candidly.

“S-sister,” Jim stammered, confused.

The man let out a low whistle. “Sister, eh? Well now, you two might jus’ be in luck after all.”

Alexa had a dreadful feeling she knew what was coming, but asked anyway, “How do you mean?”

“As I’m sure y’all seen, there ain’t many living folks left here on Frillick 12. Gets migh-ty lonely after a spell. Yes, it does. If yer sister here agrees to be my wife, well, I’d be obliged to let ya take refuge.” The cabin door swung open enticingly, revealing a sparsely appointed, yet nonetheless cozy interior.

“You can’t be serious!” Alexa exclaimed dubiously.

Jim grabbed her by the shoulders, his nails digging into her flesh with the earnestness of his grip. “Alexa, please! It’s the only way! Would you rather be eaten alive?!”

As if to emphasize her brother’s urgency, Alexa could now make out the dark shapes of their undead pursuers flitting through the trees just a few hundred yards away. She locked eyes with her brother in a silent plea for him to miraculously perceive another way out of their hopeless plight. When no such epiphany was forthcoming, she hung her head in resigned despair and nodded ever so slightly. Relief flooded through Jim, and he enveloped his dutiful sister in a crushing bear hug.

“It’ll be alright,” he whispered to her reassuringly. “We’ll find a way to make it alright.”

“So?” the stranger barked in his gravelly tenor. “Do we have an accord?”

“Yes, she agrees!” Jim enthused. He moved eagerly to enter the cabin, but the building’s inhabitant adamantly barred the entrance.

“Ladies first, or didn’t yer mother teach ya any manners?” With surprising tenderness, he held out a welcoming hand towards Alexa, which she reluctantly accepted. The predatory horde had cleared the edge of the tree line and now approached as a snarling, seething mass of rotting flesh under the light of the many moons shining brilliantly in a starry night sky.

As soon as his sister was safely inside, Jim dashed towards the doorway. He doubled over in agony as a booted foot knocked into his stomach without warning, propelling him backwards down the porch stairs.

“W-why?!” he managed to gasp between waves of breathless pain. Just before the ghouls overtook Jim and the door was slammed shut, the stranger fixed the doomed man with an implacable stare.

“I told ya before: we don’t take kindly to your types around here.”

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