Episode 76: The Good Son

Well, hey there, family.

If you love old gods of Appalachia and want to help us keep the home fires burning, but maybe aren't comfortable with the monthly commitment, well, you can still support us via the ACAS supporter feature.

No gift too large, no gift too small.

Just click on the link in the show description, and you too can toss your tithe in the collection plate.

Feel free to go ahead and do that right about now.

Coach, the energy out there felt different.

What changed for the team today?

It was the new game day scratchers from the California lottery.

Play is everything.

Those games sent the team's energy through the roof.

Are you saying it was the off-field play that made the difference on the field?

Hey, a little play makes your day, and today it made the game.

That's all for now.

Coach, one more question.

Play the new Los Angeles Chargers, San Francisco 49ers, and Los Angeles Rams Scratchers from the California Lottery.

A little play can make your day.

Please play responsibly.

Must be 18 years or older to purchase play or claim.

Did you know adults 60 plus lose more than $60 billion each year to financial exploitation?

Greenlight's new Family Shield plan empowers you to monitor your accounts for suspicious activity, protect yourself with up to $1 million identity theft coverage, and reassure loved ones that you're safe with location sharing and place alerts.

Get peace of mind today at greenlight.com slash protect.

That's greenlight.com slash protect.

Hey, I'm Paige DeSorbo, and I'm always thinking about underwear.

I'm Hannah Berner, and I'm also thinking about underwear, but I prefer full coverage.

I like to call them my granny panties.

Actually, I never think about underwear.

That's the magic of Tommy John.

Same, they're so light and so comfy, and if it's not comfortable, I'm not wearing it.

And the bras, soft, supportive, and actually breathable.

Yes, Lord knows the girls need to breathe.

Also, I need my PJs to breathe and be buttery soft and stretchy enough for my dramatic tossing and turning at night.

That's why I live in my Tommy John pajamas.

Plus, they're so cute because they fit perfectly put yourself on to tommy john upgrade your drawer with tommy john save 25 for a limited time at tommyjohn.com slash comfort see site for details

old gods of appalachia is a horror anthology podcast and therefore may contain material not suitable for all audiences.

So, listener discretion is advised.

Baker's Gap,

Tennessee,

1989.

Kelson Stallard gazed out the window of his room at the Motel 6, holding the phone between his shoulder and cheek as he slid his calling card back into his wallet.

He let his eyes take in the scenic view of the parking lot while he waited for the miracle of modern long distance to manifest and connect him to his wife over in Blackmore, Virginia.

There were a handful of cars and trucks scattered across the wide swath of pitted asphalt.

A couple of family-sized sedans were parked outside of two of the rooms downstairs.

One 18-wheeler stood like a bulwark in the hazy lights at the edge of the lot.

The remaining three were pickup trucks.

Two parked side by side, bearing the name of an out-of-town business, and the other near his own trusty Isuzu trooper.

It had taken him a solid half hour to get from Big Gap Road back to the motel, and Kelson was already regretting allowing his father to stay and visit with his old school teacher and her uh

nephew.

If he wanted to pick his dad up by any respectable time, he'd have to turn right back around and head back over there after this phone call.

As his eyes roamed over the vehicles outside,

he thought he spotted movement in the shadows where the glow of the towering metal halide sentinels gave way to the darkness of the abandoned lot between the motel and the main road.

He squinted and moved to get a better look.

But as he did, the call connected and his wife's voice drew his attention away from the window.

Oh, hey, honey.

Yeah, we made it.

No trouble at all.

Easy drive all the way.

Oh, yeah, telling stories and doing his thing.

You know how he is.

Nah, he did good.

Hip bothered him a little bit, but he's all right, I think.

Oh, yeah, good turnout.

Dad got to see a lot of old friends.

In fact, he's over at his old school teacher's house right now.

She's known dad since he was a boy.

Yeah, I know, right?

I was surprised he wasn't the oldest one there too.

How was your day?

You let the dog out?

Kelson's gaze wandered back out the window as Pearl reported on the doings of her day and what the dog was up to.

He noticed that movement again.

This time he could see two people, men, by the look of them, wandering amongst the parked cars.

One of them drifted close to an old Subaru and peered in its window.

The other waved him over in the direction of the space where the trooper sat.

Kelson tensed.

He did not come all the way out to the ass end of nowhere just to get his car broken into.

He dealt with this kind of thing before on the campgrounds of the National Forest near home, and it was never fun.

Hey, hey, Pearl Girl, I'm sorry to cut you off, baby, but I gotta run.

It's a bit of a drive back out to where I left Dad, and I think I'm gonna hit the pals.

Dad hardly ate anything today, and I figure a couple of big pals with cheese and a shake would see him right.

Uh-huh.

I know, I know.

Cholesterol, blah, blah, blah.

Well, maybe we'll split him.

Kelson could see clearly now the men were hovering around his vehicle.

One moving around the back and inspecting his tag, then glancing around the lot before motioning to the second.

The other man began to jimmy the driver's side door.

Kelson swore under his breath.

I gotta go, babe.

I'll call you before we head out in the morning.

Okay, love you too.

Bye.

He dropped the handset back into its cradle, grabbed his keys, and bolted out the door leading to the shared balcony on the second floor.

He could clearly see the men had his door open now.

What the hell y'all doing?

Get the hell out of there.

Kelson made for the stairs, pounding down to the ground floor and into the parking lot.

He was no more than 20 yards away from the scene of the crime when he hollered again.

Y'all better leave that car the hell alone or you're gonna regret it.

And I ain't talking about the law.

Kelson broke into a run and expected the two strangers to do the same, but they did not.

They just stood there with nothing but the cool evening air and a late model Silverado between them and him.

The two men glanced up from their thievery as Kelson slowed to a stop.

What the hell?

They both appeared incongruously to be dressed in Halloween costumes.

He could see that the one playing lookout had on a cape with a high collar with his face painted up like Dracula or some shit.

Even more ridiculously, the smaller of the two wore a chainmail haubert and crusaders tabard straight out of Monty Python.

It was the stupidest thing he'd ever seen and he'd seen a lot in his days as a forest ranger.

Kelson switched into good old boy mode hoping to head off the escalation of hostilities.

Oh, hey now boys.

If y'all high tell it now, ain't nobody gonna get hurt.

The knight looked him up and down nervously, clearly surprised at how tall a man Kelson Stoward was up close.

The count peered up at him with fear in his heavily mascarid eyes.

Just step away from my trooper and we'll call this a misunderstanding.

Y'all just get and we'll say no more about it.

They were just kids.

Kelson could see that now that he was closer.

How shabby and silly their outfits were and how scared they were once confronted.

What he could not see was the bigger, older man who slid from behind that late model Chevy Silverado wearing heavy brass nugs.

And after that,

Kelson didn't see anything for a while.

When the walls close in

and the light gets swallowed

and there ain't no place that feels like home

the ones you love

turn into strangers

and you cast your eyes to the winding road

keep your foot on the gas your eyes straight forward clear your heart and mind

Best leave them ghosts behind

When the hearth grows cold and home is nowhere, then you might as well

when darkness calls, run like ill.

Cowboy Absher sighed as he stepped down from the cab of the diesel behemoth that had carried him back to the one place he thought he would never lay eyes on again.

The sights and sounds of this place rapped on a dozen doors inside his mind, and he was tempted to let a few of them fly open.

They'd come in through the reservoir entrance proper,

the same path he and Floyd had walked long ago when the lake itself had been the rendezvous point for the weekend expedition.

An owl called from over his left shoulder, and he recalled if he started walking up the hill through those woods, he'd eventually come to the backyard of a little shotgun house that once belonged to Tim and Marie Duncan, Shane's grandparents.

The Duncan's cozy kitchen had been the site of some of the best meals Cowboy had ever eaten.

Shane's mamma and papa would always been kind to him, never treating him any differently from any other young'un who showed up for Sunday dinner.

When he looked back over the lake,

he could see the changes that had come to Bear Creek Reservoir over the years, with both the passing of time and the less graceful touch of men.

In the lines of power and death before him, he could see the way the landscape had been twisted and mangled to suit the needs of residents of the surrounding county who, to be fair, just wanted clean drinking water.

When Cowboy had lost his first family to the pale woman in the woods, whatever strange marks she had placed on him had shifted the way he saw the world.

He was given a second lens through which to see it, a lens that let him see the bending blade of time as it passed and would pass through all that he loved.

That lens lay bare the secrets of both life and the green.

Cowboy learned that some places would trigger his second sight no matter how hard he tried.

Sites that held too much death, such as graveyards or the deep places in the woods where generations of critters and wild things had laid down their bones were the most common.

With his sight fully open, he could see those lost things deep beneath the cold, dark earth.

Feel them lift their eyes to him like watchful hounds guarding their master.

The darkness locked inside him would call to those long stilled beings, waking them from their final repose and putting them on notice should the curse he carried call for them to rise.

For a long time, once the dark aura of protection that surrounded him in those moments was engaged, Cowboy had no control over what happened next.

He had seen it manifest in different forms over the years.

On that long ago night on the reservoir, he had not been

awake when it happened.

But Floyd had told him about the great beast that rose from the heart of Death Island, about how it both saved and nearly killed them all.

But that wasn't quite right.

Cowboy corrected himself.

He hadn't been knocked out or merely sleeping that night on the island.

He'd been dead.

The black shadow that had terrorized Kirk Kilgore since the death of his father had smacked young Cowboy so hard that his neck snapped and he died.

He felt the light leave his body like a candle guttering on a windowsill, and for a moment there was nothing but a smothering darkness that seemed to bloom from within him like a dense fog.

No light,

no air, no sound, just a thick softness as though somebody had swaddled him in a quilt made of midnight.

For a moment, all was peaceful and still,

and he knew and felt nothing.

Then his eyes had opened, and he saw the other side of the veil.

He saw the old black door standing wide just for him, saw the hands of his mama and his papa reaching out from just beyond its threshold, and then

the pain came, and the door slammed shut with a heavy, final iron clang.

He'd watched his adopted daddy, a blacksmith by trade, bend metal with a white hot flame and a hammer a hundred times, and that's what this had felt like.

Lightning, fire, and wind slammed into his tiny frame and dragged him back to the world of the living, breathing and whole, but seared around the edges as if fresh from the forge.

That night felt both like yesterday and a hundred years ago.

He swore he could hear his friends cutting up as they made their way across Copperhead's Den, laughing as Shane spun yet another yarn about Dirk Rockbone and his adventures along the native people of the land.

He could almost hear Archie grousing and bossing everybody around, Cowboy mused wistfully.

He jerked abruptly from this reverie as he realized that was, in fact, exactly what he heard.

Y'all wait up a minute, Lord.

Some of us have aged in the past 60 years, kid.

Cowboy realized he drifted away from the truck, coming almost to the water's edge, and Cody Blevins had followed in his wake.

Archie brought up the rear, limping noticeably.

I swear to Christmas, kid, you're trying to kill me.

Sorry, Arch.

Are you okay?

You're limping a bit there.

Mind your business, kid.

I'm fine.

Cody Blevins looked Archie up and down and sighed.

Nope, no disrespect, Mr.

Stallard, but I don't think you're going to be up to all the hiking and climbing we're going to be doing tonight.

I've been making my way out in these woods before you ever thought of, boy.

Don't you tell me.

Ain't no shame in getting old, sir.

Ain't nothing wrong with being stubborn, neither, but uh, you gotta have sense.

My old man's the same way.

He almost learned the hard way.

Last time my dad said he was fine, we were out hunting a thing and had been stealing goats or toward hogskin.

Tracked it back to its lair, and we thought we had it dead to rights, but daddy's knee gave out as we made our move.

Whew.

If that booger had been a least bit quicker,

it would have got us both.

We got lucky.

You think that's what we're up against over there?

Boogers and hanks and such?

We won't know what we're dealing with till we get there.

Might be spooky shit.

Might just be regular old folks who like hurting people.

I couldn't tell you which one's worse.

Neither one of them are going to give you a timeout if your hip locks up on you.

He's got a point, Arch.

Listen, we need somebody out here to go for help if things go wrong.

What if Mr.

Blevins here gives you his keys and you be our wheel man?

How's that sound?

I got a set of walkies in the truck.

We can leave one with you and holler if we need you to go get the law.

Archie Stallard bit his bottom lip as he mulled it over.

His hip did hurt like hell.

Now it's just from the ride out here.

All right, fine.

But if y'all get lost out there because I ain't with you, that's on y'all.

You hear me?

I hear you, Arch.

Scotty said you'd know where to meet him.

Poked at you about your brother.

You know where he meant?

I believe I do, unfortunately.

Let's go check on our guests in the back of the truck and get this over with.

The three men made their way back up to Cody Blevins' crew cab.

The big man regarded his rear bumper for a thoughtful moment, then turned to cowboy.

We're gonna have to help him out of the back of the truck the way I trused him up, so if you'll be ready to help me and Mr.

Stallard, sir, if you'd cover them with a shotgun, I'd appreciate it.

Archie nodded, solemnly, taking the weapon.

I imagine they'll be pretty disoriented, so this should be the easy part.

Once we're on the move, I'll take the gun.

If you don't mind to help them up, they start to trip.

Cowboy nodded, and Cody raised his voice to call through the tailgate.

All right, y'all.

We're going to help you out of there.

I don't want no funny business.

I'm going to open the camper and drop the tailgate.

Just slide down on your butts till your legs hang over the edge of the bed, and we'll help you up from there.

Agreed?

Don't start no trouble.

Won't be no trouble.

Y'all hear me?

There was a muffled, yes, sir, from Bryce Adams.

Crystal blanketship, as had been her custom thus far, remained silent.

Cody put the key in the lock and turned the handle.

The instant the latch was clear, the glass panel snapped up hard, clipping the big man in the face.

Cody staggered back as Crystal dove through the open space, landing on all fours.

She managed to free herself from her bonds somehow.

Her wrists were raw and bleeding, and Cowboy had just time to register these details before she was on her feet, lunging for the woods.

Instinctively, he made a grab for her.

Crystal juked right, and when Cowboy moved to block her, she shifted back left.

Archie Stallard froze in the moment, the shotgun forgotten in his hands as the wild-eyed girl screamed like a panther in the night and charged straight at Cowboy, her hands outstretched to claw at his face and eyes.

Cowboy caught her wrist and there was a brief struggle, but Crystal Blankenship was country girl strong and broke free, aiming aiming a vicious rabbit punch at his face.

Her bony fist found its mark, smashing his bottom lip against his teeth.

Cowboy touched his mouth, staring in shock as his fingers came away bloody.

His gaze returned to Crystal, his eyes widening with dawning horror.

Crystal crowed in triumph.

Ha!

What now?

Y'all think you're so big and bad kidnapping a girl?

You surprised when she fights back, huh?

Cowboy didn't have time to explain.

He could feel the power inside him rising to answer the threat, reaching down into the darkness of the soil that surrounded Bear Creek Reservoir.

The ground beneath Crystal's feet began to stir.

Brambles that hadn't been there a moment earlier writhed about her ankles, and the sound of skittering claws and chewing mouths whispered from below.

The girl screamed as something that might have been a rat if it possessed fewer eyes and legs scurried across her feet.

The earth around her churned as more claws tunneled their way to the surface.

Recovering, Cody started toward the girl, but Cowboy cried out, Cody, no!

Don't go near her.

Crystal, don't move.

Just nobody move!

Cowboy Apsher extended his hand in the direction of the space where the girl stood.

He closed his eyes and concentrated.

The air around them shifted, growing heavy with the smell of rotten leaves and freshly turned loam, and something growled as the power pushed back against him.

He breathed heavily, exerting his will, pushing it down into the dark earth.

Gradually, the scent began to fade.

Crystal.

When I say go,

run.

Run as far away from me as you can.

I know you're going to want to run to your uncle, but don't.

I think I've got it under control, but if I ever see you again, I can't promise that you'll be safe.

Do you understand me?

Crystal Blankenship stood frozen in place, staring down at her feet in horror as the mass of brambles and hungry bones faded back into the ground.

She didn't seem to hear him.

What the hell was that?

It looked like like the shotgun roared, and Crystal screamed, nearly falling over in fright.

Archie Stalhert had found his trigger finger at last.

The man said, run, girl.

Now get!

Archie racked the pump action once to emphasize his point, and Crystal Blankenship sprinted for the tree line.

Cody sighed.

You know she's just going to run to her uncle anyway.

Did you honestly think this was going to be an actual exchange of hostages, Mr.

Blevins?

They don't have any intention of giving Miss Bell back.

They just want me to come to them.

So let's give them what they want.

Easy now, kid.

You sure you're okay?

What just happened here was an awful lot like,

you know, back when we were kids.

I'm...

I'm fine, Arch.

I've learned to reel it in when things like that happen.

She caught me off guard, is all.

I'm alright.

Cowboy squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again, shaking his head, attempting to clear the hidden world from his field of vision.

Cody turned to Bryce, who had managed to struggle up to a sitting position on the tailgate and was staring off in the direction his girlfriend had fled, looking shell-shocked.

Well, hell, I guess it don't make much sense to drag you along with us at this point.

You mind keeping an eye on him, Mr.

Stallard?

Archie nodded.

It's fine.

He don't look like he got much fight left in him, no way.

Let's get y'all situated in the truck, then.

We'll set up the walkies and get this show on the road.

Cody Blevins popped the driver's side door open and checked Bryce's bonds, ensuring that unlike crystals, they would hold, and helped the young man into the back seat of the cab.

For his part, Bryce was wise enough to keep quiet and do as he was told.

Then Cody put the key in the ignition, and the CB radio crackled to life.

Breaker, breaker.

Hey, Kodiak.

You got your ears on out there?

Come on back now.

Over.

Cody Blevins snatched up the microphone from the dash and leaned in.

We hear you, Good Shepherd.

I believe we're pretty close to where you asked us to go.

You want to come on out and see about swapping this missing property?

Over.

Oh, Kodiak.

Y'all are in the neighborhood, but you're gonna have to come up on the porch if you want to talk about missing property.

Seems like we keep finding yours all over the place.

Listen here.

Say hi to your daddy, boy.

Huh?

What?

Dad, if you can hear me, don't come out here.

I'll be fine.

But you stay away.

You hear me?

Stay away!

Kelson!

Kel!

Boy!

Are you okay?

It's just a goddamn family reunion out here.

Stallards, the Walkers, the Cooks, the Moores.

I believe Miss Fletcher's a Metcalf on her mama's side.

All the old blood gathered out here on the water.

You know the place, don't you, Mr.

Absher?

Come on out now.

We don't want to start the party without you boys,

but we will.

Hovering out.

The radio fell silent, and Cody switched the truck back off.

Archie's eyes were wide, simmering with rage as his hands clutched the shotgun.

They got my boy.

They got Kelson.

I'm going with y'all.

Arch, we talked about this.

You can't make it all the way up there on foot.

You'll fall and get hurt.

And end up like your brother?

No, not me.

They done fucked up now.

You boys go on.

I got an idea of my own.

Archie, please.

I ain't going to go climbing no rocks or any of that foolishness, kid.

I'll be there if you need me, one way or the other, but y'all get.

I'll see you on the side.

And with that, Archie Stallard walked away from the truck, heading in the direction of the boat dock, quickly vanishing into the surrounding night.

Cody produced another shotgun from the back of the truck, and this particular model featured a foul-down barrel that

Cowboy was pretty sure wasn't legal.

Damn it, Arch!

Let him go.

We got to get a move on.

Cowboy glanced across the lake to where the island loomed in the distance.

The memories that flitted through his mind helped center him.

Before the night of the wolf, this had been a happy place, a place of trust and secrets kept.

This was the place where he and Floyd had truly become brothers and had shared that bond with the others.

This was their place.

This was his place.

And he would be damned if he let Scotty Blankenship or anyone else spoil that.

The The journey to Death Island seemed much shorter than the cowboy remembered.

Granted, he'd been a child the last time he'd been here, single-file across the top of the earthen dam, laughing as Dallas pretended to push Shane over the edge.

As he walked down the wide and well-maintained trail that now led from the dam and water treatment plant, he remembered being little.

He'd kept close to his big brother, listening in to the low private conversations Floyd and Kurt had had about older boy stuff.

Kurt's daddy's death, the girl that seemed to like Floyd and what to do about it.

He felt privileged to have witnessed his friends growing up, and at the time wondered what it would be like for him when he was older.

Little had he known at the time what a long and complicated journey that would be.

Before he knew it, the cliffs of Dirk Rockbone rose before them.

Or just the Rockbone cliffs, as Shane had called them in his stories.

As a child, they had seemed a nigh insurmountable obstacle.

These moss-covered sentinels were slippery as all heck to climb if it had been damp at all, and they were high enough for a youngin' to really get hurt if he should fall.

They didn't seem so high now.

And much like the island wasn't really an island, the cliffs weren't really cliffs.

They were just some rock formations that crested the hill leading down to the place that Kirk Kilgore had dubbed Death Island.

Cowboy stared at the ground at the base of the rocks.

It was here that his brother Floyd had tried to climb the cliffs one last time and failed.

His sight flickered, and he could see just for a moment Floyd and Kurt helping his 10-year-old self up the rock face.

It seemed so real.

At least as real as any vision of a decaying future his strange, cursed sight had ever shown him.

He allowed himself just a moment to savor it,

then blinked and shook his head, and the ghosts of his past were gone.

Uh, you all right, Mr.

Absher?

Oh, yeah.

This was just for Floyd.

Oh, right.

I don't mean to rush you, but...

No, you're right.

Let's keep moving.

So up and over the cliffs they went, back down and around to the final approach to the island.

Once they cleared the rocks and the short swampy patch of trail beyond them, there was a steeply dropping passage that could only be taken by one boy at a time.

It was only a handful of rapid steps, but if the lake was up, there was water to either side, filled with God knew what.

The island itself lay ahead.

When Cowboy and Cody reached this final passage, they paused.

Cowboy had opened his mouth to explain how to approach this next part when two things happened.

First, it occurred to him that Cody Blevins had grown up in Baker's Gap and was no stranger to the island.

Second,

he saw Floyd and Shane,

each of them maybe 14 years old, coaxing a younger version of himself down the slope.

He could not hear them, but he remembered that day well.

He had taken his first steps onto the narrow path when Floyd gave him a little push and he slid faster than he'd ever moved in his life towards Shane Shepard waiting at the base of the steep hill.

In the vision before him, Shane caught him just before he teetered over into the stagnant muck on the right-hand side of the trail.

They all laughed and cheered and Cowboy watched as Shane pulled his younger self into a tight bear hug.

He smiled fondly at the memory.

Then a third thing happened that Cowboy could not have foreseen.

Shane looked up at him.

and winked.

Cowboy started in surprise, and Cody Blevins put his hand on his shoulder.

Easy there, old timer.

You remember how to get down?

When Cowboy turned back, the path was dark and empty, water from the lake glistening on its slick surface.

I was wondering if you knew your way around out here.

Cody Blevins just chuckled.

It's smaller when it used to be.

South End got washed out when they changed the dam back in 1975 or so, but uh yep, this was the best spot to sneak a few cold ones when I was in high school.

Of course, uh,

there's all kinds of other stories about this place if you know who to ask, huh?

Without another word, Cowboy set his feet to the scurrying, measured steps required to make it safely down the passage and on to Death Island.

Before he could even take a breath of that turpentine and dead trout-scented air, a great battle unfolded before his eyes.

He and his friends were locked in a great sword fight.

The knights of the hillbilly roundtable engaged in great deeds of valor.

He knew this day.

This had been about an hour before he died.

He watched as Shane called for a halt and everybody looked around.

Though the action unfolded silently before him, Cowboy knew Kurt had just pointed out that it was getting dark.

It was time to put their swords away and head home.

Tears pricked in the corner of his eyes as his younger self handed a short little homemade sword to Shane, who would hide them all in the hollowed-out tree trunk they had called the armory.

All too soon, Kurt would notice the shadow,

and everything would change forever.

Cowboy stepped forward as if he could stop the scene from proceeding, watching as all the boys turned to look at what Kurt was pointing at.

All of the boys except

for Shane.

Instead of following the others, Shane turned to look right at Cowboy.

He held up a hand and gave the sign the boys use when they were about to ambush the enemy or do anything that might get them in trouble if they were caught.

A closed fist pulled down.

The signal for be ready.

As quickly as the vision had appeared, it was gone.

And Cowboy saw the island as it was now.

It was no longer the wondrous safe haven of his childhood.

It was smoky and musty

and dark,

save for the sickly smolder of a campfire that burned somewhere deep within the stand of pines.

They'd taken a few steps into the grove, Cody at the ready with his shotgun cowboy fighting to keep his vision clear of lines of power and visions of the dead, when a voice unfurled from the darkness like a snake from a tree limb.

That's far enough, Bear.

Cody Blevins' former football teammate stepped from the shadows, a 38 snub nose in his hand.

He was wearing an unbuttoned flannel shirt that hung a size or two too big on his lean frame.

A tall, rough-looking man in camo and work boots stood at Scotty's shoulder, his own shotgun trained on Cody.

Put the gun down and walk away, Cody.

This don't concern you.

This here's between me and your new friend.

You made it my concern when you and your little band of trick-or-treaters kidnapped Miss Belle, Scotty.

Scotty shrugged.

Miss Calloway's just fine.

Victor here will take you right to her, won't you, Victor?

The man with the shotgun grunted.

Do as he says, Cody.

I'm sure we can work this out.

Scotty grinned and gestured at Cowboy with the revolver.

See, Bear, the abomination here can be reasonable.

Why can't you?

Scotty Blanket Chip held out his hand and begrudgingly Cody Blevins handed over his weapon.

Woo, this is a nice piece, Bear.

Your daddy does a real fine job filing these down, don't he?

Come now, march!

Scotty and his man Victor walked behind Cody and Cowboy, herding them around the next bend and into the clearing that had stood at the heart of Cowboy's childhood.

What lay before them now, however,

was no place for children to play.

It was a a landscape dredged from the bowels of the deepest and darkest hell.

A bonfire smoldered in a low pit at the center of the clearing, casting a greasy orange glow over those in attendance, both living and dead.

In a rough circle around the fire, several corpses in various stages of decay and dismemberment had been placed at even intervals.

As they stepped into the light, a woman's body was being lowered into a shallow grave.

In the dim light, the cowboy could see that her throat had been slashed and her hands were missing.

She wore a bloodied sweatshirt that read, Ask me about my German Shepherd, in gold letters across the bright blue fabric, gone dark with gore.

Two more men carried a rotund older man dressed in head-to-toe denim.

The sleeves of his jacket were covered in various novelty patches featuring off-color jokes.

The one on his chest read inexplicably, The hog is feral.

His beard and mouth were matted with blood and fragments of broken teeth.

He bore a single small-caliber gunshot wound to the temple,

which must have come as a mercy after what he'd endured before it.

Cody Blevins cursed and spat.

The dog lady?

Really, Scotty?

And what the hell did Old Possum ever do to you?

You lost your damn mind, son.

Oh, Bear, I was lost.

But now I'm found.

Come on, boys.

Let's join the others.

They made their way deeper into the pines, where a dozen or so men and women milled about, attending to the odds and ends of what was clearly some sort of ritual.

Bones of both animals and people had been arranged in careful patterns and constructs.

Some hung like mobiles over a crib from the lower branches of the ancient trees.

Each pile was ringed with a white, powdery substance that connected it with its neighbor in lines so disconcertingly straight, Cowboy figured they must have been drawn with the aid of a yardstick.

At their center was a second low-burning fire.

And there on either side of it were Belle Calloway and Kelson Stallard.

Both had been bound.

Miss Belle sitting slump but upright, looking uncomfortable, while Kelson lay unconscious on his side, snoring.

What are you hoping to achieve here, Scotty?

You done killed a bunch of people.

Your own niece is out here running around barefoot and scared to death in the woods because of you.

Hell, her boyfriend is definitely going to tell the law everything he knows.

So, uh, what in the devil's fiery asshole could be worth all this?

Scotty Blankenship chuckled.

I'm glad you asked, Barry.

I really am.

See,

there are those of us who have been abused and beaten down by them that has money, power, position, and privilege.

Those of us with grievances against the world that we had no way to seek remedy for.

There are those of us against whom the deck has always been stacked.

Hell, you could argue that all Appalachia fits that bill.

In my mammal's younger days, our people prayed and they prayed for deliverance.

They prayed until their sweat fell like great drops of blood.

And lo,

lo, an angel come unto them.

An An angel without wings, with no harp nor singing choir, but an angel all the same.

An angel that spared the righteous and laid low the wicked.

A loving mother who carried a babe in her arms and showed us her love by setting right the wrongs that have befallen those who loved her.

You're wrong, son.

You're so wrong.

Honestly, it hurts my heart.

Silence, you apostate!

If you are who we think you are,

then you have borne her blessing for generations and have done nothing with it.

If you are, as our prophecies indicate, her

chosen son,

then you are a traitor to this faith.

And today you will meet your reckoning.

And once you do, oh,

I will ascend to be her good son.

And carry out her will all across the world.

The blood of wolves and lambs alike have been spilled.

The old blood and the new will soak this place, and that which dwells in you will abandon your heretic bones and come to rest in my prepared vessel.

Scotty tore off his flannel shirt with a dramatic flourish, revealing the ruin beneath.

His chest had been flayed.

Blood had congealed in long rivulets where strips of his skin had been cut and stretched like belt loops from shoulder to shoulder.

Through those freshly opened wounds had been woven strips of thorny briars and fragments of bone.

Illegible symbols were painted over his belly with a dried and rusty icker whose source was better left unimagined.

Dark mud had been spread all over his forearms, so it appeared as though he himself might have crawled from the grave.

Cody Blevins could hold his tongue no longer.

Scotty,

what have you done to yourself?

Have you lost your goddamn mind?

You have no idea what sort of things you might be playing with out here.

Revealing his self-mutilation seemed to sever the final tether holding Scotty Blankenship's facade of sanity together.

His eyes grew wide and wet and he waved the 38 in Cody's general direction.

Oh, I know exactly who I'm playing with, as you call it, Bear.

I know exactly what I'm doing, and I'll be happy to add some Blevin's blood to the mix if you don't shut your ignorant heathen mouth.

Now, calm down, Good Shepherd.

Nobody needs to get shot.

Addie took a deep breath, releasing it slowly.

His hands steadied.

His voice was calm when he spoke again.

Well, that's a matter of opinion, ain't it, son?

Then he turned to cowboy, pulled back the hammer of his revolver, and pulled the trigger.

The shot echoed across the lake,

and the world seemed to freeze for a long moment.

And then, for the second time in his life,

Cowboy Absher fell to the soft pine floor of Death Island

and died.

Belle screamed.

Cody lunged forward, trying to reach his side, but two of the bigger men in Scotty's entourage tackled him to the ground.

No!

Oh, Scotty!

You poor stupid boy!

what have you done?

There was a thrum of power,

and the whole island shook beneath their feet.

The night seemed to deepen around them, the firelight growing dim and the shadows darkening as a foul wind began to blow from the east.

I've done what I was born to do, Belle Calloway.

I've slain the imposter and will now receive her blessing.

Watch.

You watch now.

With the shedding of his blood, the lines that connect our offerings will burn with black fire and the peace of our mother hidden inside him will...

The earth shook again.

The bones hanging in the trees rattling like wind chimes and the wind itself picked up.

And a sound like thunder rolled across the lane.

The noxious breeze scattered the ash and lime that Scotty's followers had used to mark the ground.

No black fire sprung up from their scratchings, and the offerings that Scotty and his followers had strewn about the island lay still

and cold.

Somewhere a tree cracked and fell, its echoing crash like mocking laughter,

and then there was silence.

A suffocating absence of sound that hung oppressively over the island.

Scotty looked around, as did his followers, waiting for a sign, watching for some indication that all their dark and bloody work had not been for nothing, and they turned their eyes to the man their leader had shot, who lay still on the ground, no one daring to breathe.

Then Cowboy Absher sat bolt upright.

He made no sound.

He turned his head this way and that, taking the crowd that had gathered around him,

then rose carefully to his feet.

At first, aside from the bloody hole morrowing his formerly neat white dress shirt, there was no sign Cowboy had done anything more unusual than choose an odd spot for a nap.

Not until they got a look at his eyes.

The bright blue orbs had gone an unnatural black

from pupil to sclera.

And what looked out from behind them

was not Cowboy at all.

As he rose to his feet, it became more clear that something was very, very wrong.

Whatever looked out from behind Cowboy's eyes moved as if it wasn't used to wearing a human body.

It stared down at Cowboy's hands, flexing the fingers experimentally.

Cowboy's head cocked to one side curiously.

What have we here?

Cowboy?

Cowboy, honey?

Are you alright?

The one you call cowboy is

unavailable at the moment.

And ones who seek to harm him end up speaking with me in the end.

This is the first time I've had the run of the store, so to speak.

I rather like it.

Your cowboy will be back, fear not.

Actually,

I suppose you should fear.

You should be very afraid.

Scotty Blankenship threw himself at Cowboy's feet, his arms wide, his chest bleeding openly, joy washing over him like the rapture had come.

Oh, spirit of our mother, hear me.

I am your true vessel, your good and faithful son.

Leave the prison of that ungrateful heathen's wretched form and cleave to my flesh.

We will do great works together.

Let what has been planted in the dark earth bloom at dawn.

The thing that was not cowboy scowled at Scotty Blankenship,

clearly unimpressed by the shirtless bleeding man.

What would you have of me?

Abandon the post I was set to guard?

You foolish monkeys.

You think we are cattle to be traded?

But we have followed the teachings.

We have obeyed the law set down in the good mother's name.

We have spilled blood.

So much blood.

Please.

Please, this is what is right.

Come unto me if my mamma all foretold and let us be as one.

Oh,

you made offerings.

You conducted your sad little meaningless rites to honor us.

You shed blood in our name,

spoiled your hands in the hopes of redemption.

You want us to raise the dead and set things right.

Well then, little

ape,

let us see what we can do.

The thing-wearing cowboy Absher turned and sauntered back through the pines to the spot where Maureen Fletcher, the dog lady to the thoughtless and unkind, and Possum had been haphazardly interred.

It gazed down at the fresh grave.

reaching up to touch the rapidly closing wound in the center of cowboy's chest.

It held his bloody hand out over the grave, allowing two drops of blood to fall on the shared resting place of Scotty's unfortunate victims.

The freshly turned earth began to churn,

steaming in the cool night air as the flesh of men and bones of creatures lost to time answered its call.

There was a roar deep within the earth, and then something that was neither the dog lady nor old casino tore its way into our world.

What climbed out of that unworthy grave was not the risen forms of two innocents who had been sacrificed, but a hulking beast with two exposed spinal columns twisted around each other like some mockery of a caduceus.

Its bloated arms and legs consisted of petrified roots and the rich black loam that had filled their grave.

Its face

was a twisted amalgamation of Maureen Fletcher and the maw of some massive hound that probably hadn't walked these hills since the Appalachians stretched as high as the Rockies.

Four eyes stared out of it, blazing with an orange light.

Clumps of dirt rained from its massive form as it shook itself in a distinctly canine gesture and let loose a blood-chilling howl.

The ground at its feet began to seethe and buckle again, heralding the arrival of a dozen such patchwork dogs, each more horrific and strange than the last.

They ranged in size from a towering bull mastiff-like thing complete with a crown of horns to a pack of tiny rat dogs with toenails like kitchen knives.

Each gave an answering howl as it clawed its way from the earth, and then as one,

They set upon the congregation of Scotty Blankenship's followers like a pack of coyotes on a warren of rabbits.

The thing that was not cowboy turned back to Scotty, who had worshiply followed in its way.

It cuffed his face almost gently in one hand and turned his head to face the slaughter.

Scotty tried to wrench his gaze away, but the thing held him fast.

There were no survivors.

As the screams gave way to whimpers and the whimpers faded to silence,

one by one,

the dogs disintegrated back into the earth, returning to their disparate paths.

The thing made of old Possum and Maureen Fletcher slumped back to their burial plot, collapsing into a heap of bone and blood and shredded organs, and began

to rot.

Scotty Blankenship

had begun to weep.

shh,

enough.

If I were to forsake my given purpose, why would I trade one ungifted meat cage

for another?

The flat black eyes that gazed out of Cowboy Absher's handsome face bored into Scotty blanketship as it raised a hand.

The vines of thorns woven into Scotty's flesh began to writhe in response, pulling the terrified man first onto his tiptoes and then into the air.

His back arched as he hung suspended by his own tearing and bleeding chest.

And then the brambles turned inward on the leader of the congregation of Peter's branch, punching through his ribcage and lungs like a hunting knife through the sidewall of a deflating tire.

The vines burrowed into his flesh, nodding around one another, and then they began to move, forming a conveyor belt of gore and thorns that tore up and around, in and out through Scotty Blankenchip's body like some hellish roller coaster.

His screams echoed across the clearing, louder than any that had come before.

They seemed to go on for an eternity until Belle Calloway had to turn away.

She could hear Cody Blevins retching quietly in the grass.

Finally,

whatever was riding Cowboy raised a hand and the motion stopped.

It took a long moment to admire its handiwork and then raised Cowboy's index finger, waving it in the air like a conductor with a baton.

And those dead, lightless eyes met Scotty's one final time.

There's not a scrap of power in you

or any of these pathetic little sycophants.

We

have no

use

for you.

Please, I just wanted to...

There was a sound of rending flesh and a mist of dark blood as the rope of thorns began to twist again.

Faster and faster.

Too fast for the naked eye to even follow and tore Scotty blanketship

apart.

The thing that was not cowboy gave a contented sigh and steepled the young man's fingers together as it turned back to the guttering campfire and the retired school teacher who sat bound in its fading glow.

Belle Calloway edged away as it crouched down to meet her eyes.

But you,

Sarah Avery,

you burn bright before us.

You

always

have

we

have been looking for you

for a very

long

time

you

you stay away from me you bitch cowboy cowboy are you in there please can you hear me

Deep within the darkness of his own body,

Cowboy Abisher stirred.

stirred.

How long had he been gone this time?

He could feel his body had almost finished healing.

There was a dull ache in his chest, and he moved to rub it, to soothe it, but his hands would not obey.

He tried to look down, but saw nothing but murky darkness.

With an effort, he tried to open his eyes, and slowly, Begrudgingly, his vision returned.

He saw Miss Belle on the ground before him.

She was alright, but why did she look so scared?

She was apparently unharmed.

Then he felt it.

The dark thing that kept him from harm.

The thing that she had planted in him with a kiss when he was just a child.

It was all around him.

He was waking up.

He was healed.

The pain should bring him back into his body, but

something was wrong.

He could see his own hands reaching for Miss Belle, but not by his own will.

Cowboy felt its intent and his blood run cold.

It might not be willing to move to an ungifted host.

But one with the potential power of the Walker bloodline?

No.

No, that could not be allowed to happen.

He strained, but nothing happened.

He screamed, but there was only silence.

He was lost, lost in the dark, all alone.

He felt panic rising within him, and then

a voice came from his left.

Fear not, young adventurer, for you are not alone.

Stand fast and all will be well.

Cowboy thought he must be losing his mind.

It was Shane.

Or Shane's voice at any rate, in the grand theatrical cadence he used when telling his stories.

Then in his more usual tone, it came again.

Just a little bit longer, buddy.

We're coming.

And one by one,

they came.

Kirk Kilgore,

followed by Dallas Shepherd,

and then his brother Floyd.

None of them spoke except shame.

The cowboy could feel their presence beside him in the darkness, pushing that alien power away, lending Cowboy their strength as he strained to regain command of his body.

Damn it, Dallas!

I think all of us have to be here for this to work.

The shade of Dallas Shepherd nodded and held up one finger as if asking for patience.

A moment later, the buzzing of an outboard motor came from just off the left of his field of vision.

The whirring of the engine died, and there was a soft thunk of a boat coming to rest on the shore and feet splashing through the shallows.

Kid?

Hey, kid, where are you?

Archie.

The real Archie, limped through the weeds and into view.

His eyes widened and his mouth fell slack as he took in the destruction and horror that had been visited upon the place.

And then he saw his friends.

All of them.

As they were in their prime and also as they had been when they died, Cowboy saw them all as the young boys he remembered from their childhood, but

Archie had known each of them all the way to their respective ends.

It was also clear to him that Cowboy was not right, and there was some purpose in their gathering, and though he did not fully understand it, he moved to stand with them.

Stiff hip be damned.

He heard Shane's voice call out, Now, Dallas, now!

And the memory or ghost or whatever it was of Shane's cousin whistled hard through his fingers.

And Cowboy heard the skittering of claws and the running jingling of dog tags as a familiar spectral shape blew past Archie Stallard, nearly bowling him over.

Shane laughed.

I love it when he does that.

Sam?

Oh, hey, boy.

We're all here now.

Come on, kid.

Cowboy pushed at the thing whose powers surrounded him and felt the combined will of his friends, his family, and this place surge into him, adding their strength to his, the thing that had been riding his body, scream.

Not yet

you stay away from her you hear me I said get back

the ground shook and that thunderous boom sounded across the island once more

The boys of Death Island standing together one last time poured everything they had into their youngest companion and in doing so vanished into the East Tennessee nod like a sweet summer wind.

The sound of sand's booming baroo carrying them on to wherever came next for them.

All except Archie, who spotted his son on the ground near the fire and rushed to his side.

Kelson was beginning to stir, and Archie spoke soothingly to him, pulling out his trusty pocket knife to saw at the nylon rope that bound him.

Cody Blevins, no longer restrained by the two members of Scotty's cult, had hastened to Miss Belle's side and and began working to free her as well.

Belle breathed a sigh of relief as she felt the presence of whatever had been driving her former student recede.

Cowboy Amsher, for his part, lost his balance and fell to the ground beside her.

Cowboy, honey,

are you okay?

Are you with us?

There was a long silence as Cowboy remembered how to breathe.

He looked up at her with clear, sparkling blue eyes.

I'm right here, Miss Belle.

The woman who was once Sarah Avery

pulled Cowboy into a tight hug and whispered,

I'm all right.

You're all right.

Come on now, Sugar.

Let's get out of here.

There is a curse upon my

everywhere.

cannot escape

the dark.

Well, hey there, family.

So how did that hit you?

Y'all alright?

If you ain't, you will be.

It has been an absolute joy to come back to Baker's Gap and Death Island to see our boys at the end of their respective roads.

And I appreciate y'all coming with me.

Now, this does close out the first arc of season five of Old Gods of Appalachia, Run Like Hell.

Now this season, remember, is a true anthology and will feature standalone stories that will roll through both familiar and unfamiliar places.

So now we're going to take a little bit of break and come back to you with a whole new story from your beloved hedge witch and mistress of the dark, Cam Collins.

So to be clear and explicit, the second arc of season five will begin on Thursday, March 6th.

2025.

If you want that a day early, you can make sure that you've joined us in our paid subscription service, The Holler.

There are hours and hours of exclusive storylines to fill that extra week of waiting before we come back with a whole new tale.

Just head on over to old godsofappalachia.com slash theholler to move on in.

And this is your Did You Really Think We Weren't going to bring Sam into it?

Reminder that Old Gods of Appalachia is a production of Deep Nerd Media, distributed by Rusty Quill.

Our theme song is by Brother Land and Blood, and our outro music is by those poor bastards.

Today's story was written by Steve Schell and Cam Collins.

The voice of Kelson Stoward is Kelson Stoward and the voice of Cowboy Absher is Brandon Bentley.

Talk to you soon, specifically on March 6th, 2025, family.

Talk to you real soon.

From prying ice to improving defenses to peace of mind.

Take your company's cybersecurity to the next level.

Transform the everyday with Siemens.

Coach, the energy out there felt different.

What changed for the team today?

It was the new Game Day Scratchers from the California Lottery.

Play is everything.

Those games sent the team's energy through the roof.

Are you saying it was the off-field play that made the difference on the field?

Hey, a little play makes your day, and today, it made the game.

That's all for now.

Coach, one more question.

Play the new Los Angeles Chargers, San Francisco 49ers, and Los Angeles Rams Scratchers from the California Lottery.

A little play can make your day.

Please play responsibly.

Must be 18 years or older to purchase, play, or claim.

Hey, I'm Paige DeSorbo, and I'm always thinking about underwear.

I'm Hannah Berner, and I'm also thinking about underwear, but I prefer full coverage.

I like to call them my granny panties.

Actually, I never think about underwear.

That's the magic of Tommy John.

Same, they're so light and so comfy, and if it's not comfortable, I'm not wearing it.

And the bras, soft, supportive, and actually breathable.

Yes, Lord knows the girls need to breathe.

Also, I need my PJs to breathe and be buttery soft and stretchy enough for my dramatic tossing and turning at night.

That's why I live in my Tommy John pajamas.

Plus, they're so cute because they fit perfectly.

Put yourself on to Tommy John.

Upgrade your drawer with Tommy John.

Save 25% for a limited time at tommyjohn.com/slash comfort.

See site for details.