Black Stump Ridge

“Charlie.” He froze. Icy fingers squeezed his testicles. “Charlie.” He knew that voice; knew it well. It didn’t belong here. It belonged far away, not from somewhere behind him on this frigid mountainside. “Charlie.” Slowly he turned. He tried not to, but his feet and his body seemed to have minds of their own. There she stood, less than twenty feet away. Her hair cascaded down either side of her head. Her eyes were wide and staring directly at him. Her mouth was set in the pouty smile he knew all too well. In spite of the cold she wore a diaphanous negligee. The gauzy fabric shifted on the wind. First it revealed her upturned breasts; then hid them. She raised her arms, opened them to him in a welcoming pose. “Why did you leave me like that, Charlie?” She stepped closer. Charlie felt the shotgun’s sling move down his arm. The weapon clattered to the ground. The tarpaulin, too, fell to the rocky soil beside his feet. “What’s the matter, Charlie? Aren’t you glad to see me?” Charlie’s mouth worked spasmodically. “You can’t be here. You’re dead.” Janine’s face registered mock surprise as her hands made an exaggerated show of checking her body. “Really, Charlie? I feel fine.” She took another step toward him. “You don’t look like you feel so good, though.” Charlie’s hand rose to the zipper on his down jacket. Slowly, without taking his eyes off of the apparition in front of him, he eased the zipper halfway down and slipped his hand inside. “I killed you.” Janine nodded. “Yes, Charlie, you did.” Her voice sounded sad even as the expression in her eyes hardened. “That really hurt my feelings, you know.” Charlie’s hand found the butt of the pistol still nestled in the shoulder holster. With his thumb, he unsnapped the safety strap. “How are you here? Why are you here?” She tilted her head to one side as if thinking. “Very good questions, Charlie. Both of them. Which answer do you want first?” “It doesn’t matter.” He pulled the gun free of the holster. The hammer caught, briefly, and then the pistol was free of the coat. He raised it, pointed it at his dead wife, and thumbed back the hammer. “I killed you once. I’ll do it again.” He pulled the trigger. The big revolver thundered. The blast echoed in the mineshaft behind him. He heard it reverberate among the surrounding hills. A gout of flame stretched towards Janine, temporarily blinding him. His night vision returned. He saw her walk toward him, unharmed. Her right arm drew back. She swung it sideways in an arc across her body. It moved impossibly fast, striking his extended arm just above the wrist. Pain beyond any he’d ever felt exploded white hot inside his brain. He dropped to his knees. From somewhere he heard her say, “Sorry, Charlie.” It barely registered. He stared at the remains of his arm; at the blood pulsing from the jagged stump where once his wrist and hand had been. Suddenly, she stood in front of him. Her gown gently brushed him. He looked up. She smiled down at him. The smile grew. Her lips parted. Her smile grew larger. As her face slowly descended her mouth opened. The smile grew wider still. Impossibly wide. Sharp, jagged teeth lined dripping crimson gums as her mouth drew ever closer. “I’m so hungry, Charlie. I think I’ll just eat you right up.” His last thought as his head disappeared inside of her mouth was, ‘Where did you get all those teeth?’