Supernatural Fresh Meat - By Alice Henderson Page 0,71
down at Sam with utter contempt.
Not a man, a vampire.
The vampire smashed his foot down again, crushing Sam’s fingers, but Sam refused to let go of the axe. Sam’s flailing feet kicked the rock face below him, trying to find a place to stand. He looked to his left, seeing a handhold in the granite. Just as he brought his boot down a third time, Sam’s foot found a small ledge. He let go of the axe with his right hand, knowing the wrist strap would keep him connected to it. With his left, he grabbed the handhold. The wounds from where the aswang had pierced his chest muscles throbbed in agony.
The vampire’s combat boot landed harmlessly on the ice axe, and as he stepped back off it, Sam grabbed it, swinging it up into his thigh. He felt the axe bite through muscle and yanked downward, hoping to pull his assailant off the mountain. But as the vampire pitched forward, another, a female with bright blue spiked hair, ran up and grabbed him. She reached down, yanking the axe head out of his leg. Sam nearly lost his balance as she tried to snatch the axe away from him. He gripped it, but Bobby’s weight threatened to yank him backward. His left fingers started slipping in the handhold, and he could feel the granite tearing through his glove and cutting his skin.
She crashed her boot down on Sam’s left hand. Instantly, they went numb from the blow. He felt his hold slipping further. With a sickening feeling, he dipped backward. Instinctively, he swung forward with the axe, catching a lip of stone as he fell. He pulled himself back flush with the cliff, his left hand finding another nook to grip. Now he hung just below the summit where the vampires couldn’t stomp on his hands.
Sam’s heart thudded in his chest. He took a moment to catch his breath. He looked down, seeing Bobby swinging below.
“You okay?” he shouted down.
“Never better.”
Sam angled his head up, seeing the two vampires leaning over the edge. Black Overcoat pointed out to his partner a narrow ledge they could move down to in order to reach Sam and knock him loose.
As Sam searched the rock face for another position to move to, the creatures slid over the top of the ridge, moving closer to his precarious position.
FORTY-FIVE
Dean walked another circuit of the ground floor, then stopped before one of the large windows that looked out over the parking lot. The ski patrol were out there, gathered around a small cannon on a wheeled cart. He saw the hooded parka of Steven, the snow ranger, who bent over the howitzer. Five others clustered around him, but there was a sixth member in a red parka who was very short. Dean realized Grace had probably changed into dry clothes, and he might not recognize her in new outdoor gear.
Donning his winter jacket and hat again, he ventured out into the storm. As he approached the group, they watched while the snow ranger looked at a map, then manually adjusted the sights on the howitzer. Dean reached them. Steven didn’t look up from his task.
“Hey,” Dean said, hoping they would all turn. The wind carried his voice away, and almost tore the map from Steven’s hand.
One of them turned and saw Dean standing there. “What the hell are you doing out here?” he demanded. He was in his early twenties, long blond hair encrusted with snow. Dean recognized him from the crew room.
“I’m still looking for the person I arrived with. Grace.”
“You shouldn’t be out here. There’s extreme avalanche danger.”
A second man turned around, the exposure victim from earlier. “Don’t be rude, Ambrose. Dude lost his friend,” he admonished. He sized Dean up. “I’m Hank. Everyone’s been evacuated.”
Dean felt a flush of impatience. “I know. We just hiked in together about an hour ago.”
Hank looked thoughtful. “Right. Well, I haven’t seen her.”
Dean shifted his position and was able to see the faces of the rest of the group. They were the same from the crew room, plus a short woman in her mid-twenties wearing the red parka. From under a short crop of coppery hair, almond eyes set in a tanned face peered up at Dean.
She straightened up and moved away from the howitzer toward him. “Steve’s getting ready to fire. Susan,” she introduced herself.
“Dean.”
“You new to the ski patrol?” she asked, eyeing him dubiously.