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"You're under arrest!"
Jericho tried to slowly move up from the snow-covered ground. A few days ago, he had complete faith in the idea that he could easily disarm and take Nashida out. However, as the wild-eyed agent stood over him with Tom Fiddler's shotgun, he had to reconsider the easy part.
Nashida's eyes were bloodshot and bulging. Jericho knew what being out in the elements, in the raw cold without food, did to a man. Nashida had that look of desperation and fear. The same as the wolves a few days earlier. That could have been him had he not met Tom Fiddler.
"You're under arrest!" Nashida shouted again.
"Yeah, I heard you the first time."
"Stand up!"
"Okay, just be cool."
Jericho lifted his hands into the air and got back up to his feet. He towered over Nashida, who was closer to Fiddler's height than his. The agent looked so thin and sickly. His skin was much tighter than back when they were in Alaska.
BBBBBBRRRRRRRRAAAAAAEEEEEEWWWWWWWW
Nashida turned toward the bellowing shriek. Jericho should have sprung. But he didn't run. His moment of escape passed him by. He was on a mission, and he understood what that roar meant.
"Nashida, I need you to give me that gun back."
Nashida whipped back around and re-aimed the shotgun at Jericho. "Are you insane? Why would I do that? You're under arrest!"
"Yeah, I know. It's just, that gun doesn't belong to you. Or me. It belongs to a friend of mine."
"Who, Parker Cassata?"
"Ha. No. My friend, Mr. Fiddler, is in a lot of trouble. You can help me, but we have to be—"
"I saw what you did back there! What you did to Orroye!"
Jericho paused. He wanted to deny it, but Nashida wouldn't listen anyway. If something happened to his partner, there was no chance of him listening to reason.
"What happened to him?"
"You killed him. You tore him to pieces and then...you son of a bitch...you...you ate him!"
"No, sir. That was not me."
Nashida's hands started to tremble. One involuntary twitch and Jericho's face would be scattered across the trees. Can't let that happen.
BBBBBBRRRRRRRRAAAAAAEEEEEEWWWWWWWW
Jericho gritted down on teeth. This was a waste of time.
"That sound you hear. That's the thing that got your friend, and now, it's got mine. Work with me and—"
"No!" Nashida screamed.
"Jericho!"
That was Tom Fiddler’s voice in the distance. Jericho wasn't living up to his end of their bargain. He had to think fast.
The mercenary shrugged. "Fine. We'll do it the hard way."
Jericho squatted down and hit a sliding leg kick, taking Nashida's leg out from underneath him.
BBBOOOOOMMMM
The shotgun went off. Buckshot flew through the air as Nashida crashed downward. The agent hit the ground, back first, and was met with a knee to the head. Nashida's body crumbled beneath his target. Jericho grabbed the shotgun and took off in the direction of Tom's cry for help.
Jericho ran five hundred yards. This was much different than his jogs along the lakeshore. The heavy snow and the bitter air burned in his lungs. His body was still calorie deficient despite his last two meals, so he didn't quite have the same explosiveness in his step.
When Jericho reached a small clearing, he found the immense creature, with its yellowing skin and long arms, draped over something. It looked like it was eating. He failed to protect someone—again. Jericho stopped and raised the gun.
CHIK CHIK
BBBOOOOMMMM
The scattered buckshot tagged the Wendigo in the back. The creature rose its torso up into the night sky as it bellowed. Maybe the gun wouldn't kill it, but it had to hurt like hell.
The Wendigo turned its disgusting face toward Jericho. Tom Fiddler's blood dripped from the creature's mouth. Jericho squinted.
CHIK CHIK
BBBOOOOMMMM
The scatter struck the Wendigo in the chest. The force knocked the creature ass-over-end. The Wendigo pulled itself back up, but struggled to keep its balance. This thing had Wolverine-level healing powers. Jericho let the shotgun drop to his side. Hopefully, it softened the monster up enough for him to go in and handle the messy stuff.
He reached down to grab the knife, but when his fingers touched his thigh, all he found was an empty leather scabbard tied to his leg. Jericho looked down, and sure enough, the silver dagger was gone. Maybe it fell out when Nashida got the drop on him?
"Fuck."
Jericho thought about reloading the gun, but that would take time, and all the shots had done so far was barely enough to wound the monster. Hurting the thing just seemed to piss it off more. Jericho tightened his grip on the shotgun and took off in the other direction. He made a promise to Tom Fiddler, but dead men don't grant wishes. Right now, survival was his prime directive. He'd have to find his own ride to town.
Jericho ran back through the darkened woods, with no torch and no way to see where he was going. He needed to get back to the Colorado. He could figure out what to do with the Wendigo later. If he even wanted to deal with it anymore. Right now, outrunning the thing was more important than killing it.
Jericho couldn't see, but thought he had a good idea where they left the truck. He bolted off in the direction he assumed the truck was, but the creature found him, tackling him to the snow. Jericho tried to move, but the Wendigo somehow pinned his arms behind his back and shackled them together.
What?
"You're under arrest!"
Jericho looked over his shoulder where the wild-eyed Nashida stuck something cold against his throat. It didn't take a genius to figure out it was the silver dagger. How did he manage to get it? Jericho looked back into the woods and saw the shadowed figure of the Wendigo. The creature didn't draw any further. Jericho couldn't quite make out the features of the monster's gaunt face, only its protruding bloodstained grill was visible. For some reason, in the back of Jericho's mind, he swore he saw a smile across the Wendigo's face.