"Now ain't you an ugly sucker." Hickory whispered, shotgun up - pointing it at the gooey ball of evil, how he'd felt the itch of it, followed it here -

It'd started as just a thought - like maybe you'd done forgot something important, left your zipper open, or that he was being watched. Like a buzz just outside of hearing, and it had him on edge cause he couldn't put his finger on the matter.

He'd decided to take a walk, to clear his mind of all this craziness of the day, to forget about it - that he'd just go check his traps and maybe he'd find the problem there?

That what he found was worse?

Evil?

Cause didn't it have to be? Evil enough to make your whole body itch like your balls after a day of scrappin' in the heat? That just looking at the mess of twisting shadow made him feel like a plucked chicken, all goose flesh and ready to be thrown into a pot to boil?

That Hickory wanted nothing more then to get away from this place, to run and dive into the river and give himself a scrubbing.

It was like a floating ball of oil - bubbling black and snouted heads - feral jaws, like a baddie was trying to get out! He had to do something about this, he couldn't just leave it -

*Bam*

Hickory fired a round into the evil mess and the bb's punched into it, knockin' a big ole dent - but that dent just popped right back out, the bb's slowly trickled out the bottom like rain drops pattering...

"Worth a shot." Hickory said, and if he laughed more from being nervous than his joke? He cracked open the double barrel of his sawed-off, stuck the empty in his pocket for reloading later and put a fresh round in and snapped it shut.

-click-

And he walked forward, one finger extended and it wasn't shaking.

"Stop lyin."

His finger touched the goo, he expected to be somewhere else just like before, another room, another test - he wasn't.

It was the same corn field, but now - now the sun wasn't bright and happy, it was sick - like the Rickards were burnin tires again, chokin' it out. Hickory took a slow swallow of air, it tasted stale, there was no breeze and everything was quiet.

Real quiet, so quiet he hardly dared to move.

It wasn't the silence of the night where it was an almost quiet, neither. This was that dead quiet...that quiet that told ya something was there. Something was close. Right behind ya - It was the exact quiet you didn't want in the middle of a big ole corn field.

"I shoulda pissed before I came in here." Hickory whispered, cause all of a sudden he had to - bad. But right now, in this spooky place? Lowering his double barrel was the second to the last thing he would do...the last thing was pulling his single barrel out where it could get bit off!

Just thinking bout it set him a shiverin' and that was all it took - because he was standing in those corn rows, shoulders touching the leaves - and the noise it made, just that small shake, in the quiet it was like thunder.

And then Hickory missed that awful quiet. Because now it was loud -

Somethings coming.

Crashing from all around, and he was blind. Too short to see over he tried jumping up! In the distance he could see the corn rippling, a trail - heading for him, but - but he couldn't aim like this!

He ducked, low to the ground where there was no leaves, and he finally saw it - or didn't - cause it was just black. Long rows of corn, where they bent, spinning in a circle he could see four shapes, dark shadows in the growth - fast and low to the ground, about the size of a...a...

"They after my chickens." Hickory whispered, and then - then he wasn't scared...then, he was mad! Now mad ain't stupid, ya hear - he still ran!

But he ran toward the road - and also, right at one of them bastards! Hickory charged, the gun lowered just so he could see, the corn slapped at his face, he felt the quick cuts where his skin was bare, closing on the creature, the sound of corn being knocked over doubled - twenty feet away, and his gun was coming up, at fifteen feet, Hickory's feet were planted -

*Bam*

The closing shadow blew up! Corn tore and fell, sheared from the shot - and he was running again, the other three chasing still, closer - maybe. Because with ears ringing from the blast you can't hear much, instead sound flowed in an out like a siren - the thrashing mixed with ringing -

And something was wrong - too late now! But the corn field - it wasn't this big, even if he went the wrong way, the longest way, he'd be at the road by now -

There was no end, he'd wasted his time running -

Hickory spun - late again, ten feet back and it was already leaping, the corn was parting, his gun was low, he raised it, not to his shoulder - not enough time -

*Bam*

From the hip, recoil sent a loose stance spinning in the moist soil - leaning back away from the beast, the kick of it took his balance, the shadow died but the ground isn't solid, gun lost with the crash, ears ringing again but sight works - see how close those other two are!

Hands shaking, grabbing the gun, the barrels hot -

"Damn!"

But hold it! It's just pain! But the catch, slipping, eject! Eject! Praying for the -

- Click -

Shells pop out, bouncing off -

The crashing! Close, pockets stuffed full of shells, grabbing two, ones empty!

"Ya cheap idiot!" One shot, finger's on the trigger before even the -

- Click -

*Bam*

And then the bite, because there were two - the bite from the other around the arm, an empty gun dropped, and a scream, fist swinging, the punch into the living darkness that now can be seen - it isn't that, it isn't known, it's worse, teeth that cut like ice, sear like fire, and breath that smells like battery acid as it tears into flesh -

He's going to be ripped apart! But he's not - something, something stops it from breaking through, cutting him open and Hickory feels it, feels that solid weight, that feeling of - of honesty?

That's what he feels, ain't it? Like he'd just told himself a few minutes ago? That he knew it was wrong to be lying -

Somehow that feeling isn't just inside, but it's protecting him, armoring him - not against the pain, it hurts but he's not being ripped apart, it only hurts like it -

Punching out, like hitting sandbags, knuckles scrape against the rough, the jolting pain, another punch, another punch, another, another, another -

And then the fist finally breaks something, something that knocks it back, that opens those dark jaws that growls into the base of the spine, so evil the eyes are even black - scrambling up in the seconds bought with pain, the gun just a foot away but that sound is getting closer -

Crashing. Louder. More. Lots more.

Hickory looks down at his arm, he can move it even if it smarts - but that was against just one, one he barely hurt, that stares back, ready to pounce again. He feels all that pain, all that -

"I'm sorry, Da." That whisper, a taste of defeat as the gun is reached for, too late to reload, not with shaking hands - "I did my best. I did my best to be brave like you, I tried."

Da's knife, the right pocket pokes in the bending reach for his weapon, a hard finger against the bladder, reminding him - surrounded by evil about to pounce, about to piss and just one decision left.

How do you want to die? Like Da, fighting desert demons? Brave? Or afraid - covered in piss?

The gun is ignored, the knife comes out, thumbnail catches on the groove with the practiced flick, and the darkness is here!

But that fear is pushed down, pushed down hard, and it's not just every bit of bravery in ya held in that hand now, it's Da's, too, ain't it - cause he gave us everything he could. He gave all. That I'm his son, and what those bastards gonna taste - it ain't gonna be chicken.

And it wasn't just that thin blade that flicked out with a click - oh, boy. It did. But by the time that shadow was close enough to bite, the knife was not a knife -

*Shink*

A Sword of Light - as bright and bold as bravery, pierces the darkness, cuts straight through it -

"Yes!"

Another swing and -

*Slice*

"Yes!"

It bursts! The light, right there in the palm, not just cutting, spin and slice, clear the space, darkness falls dead, a wide circle, and the corn stalks left standing seem to sigh, feel the soft breeze of his movement and -

Crash.

"Thank ya - thank ya, Da." Hickory said, looking down in his knife in awe, feeling the bravery inside of him, his sword, that power. Feeling the honesty, that armor as well -

He thought he'd failed - but that fountain water had filled him -

The rest is almost easy, as easy as watching it happen, the small attacks he took were brushed off, weak - and with the last swing the world returned back to normal, the sun became bright again - there was a breeze, fresh air, sound, the corn uncut...and another itch.

And this is different now - the feeling wasn't bad, but just as urgent - it was coming from the Book.

There had been a Book in that fountain -

It had been blank when Hickory picked it up - floating there above the fountain, he thought he'd done the right thing, passed the test...only to find it had just one page with writing, the word Font, and the number one -

Font was how the words looked when you typed things out, Hickory knew that from school, and then the number one was the page number, every book he'd been forced to read had page numbers, though why bother with a blank book?

Font. One. Not even a title on the cover...just a single page with a giant page number on it, and nothing else...

Not only that - but nobody else could even see the book! He'd felt like a dummy, trying to show his buddies his magic book that appeared every time he held his left hand up, to see if they'd make something of it - only for Hunter to slap his hand, to give him a low five!

'You're back! Why we thought we'd finally got rid of you!'

There was more then one page now - the book wasn't blank

It was still plain and brown and boring, the cover empty, the first page still said Font on the top, but the number one was gone. It said 26 now. Hickory flipped the pages -

"That don't make no sense."

Books don't change...

It wasn't a page number, couldn't be - there were not 26 pages. Hickory looked - there were some pages though, some drawings - and a small story beneath each of them. He wasn't the best reader, but it was obvious from the pictures what they were...

He flipped back to the front, and now - now the 26 said 27! Hickory's eyes widened as he watched that number change to 28! He turned to the last page, and there was a number there as well.

Reservoir - 623.

He knew there was only one page before when he'd found the book, thought he'd failed that test, and he hadn't checked again just wanting to forget about the whole mess, forget about how May had looked at him, not like he was handsome but like how Mama looked at pictures of Jesus, her prayin' face, that he'd spent a lot of time thinking about May getting down on them knees and praying was the last thing -

Hickory flicked through the book and there were numbers at the top of the drawings, there was a picture of a little ole church (300), a swimming pool (400), a hall (500), and a school house(500).

They all had a number next to the picture, and Hickory had been staring at how nice that pool looked, cause didn't he get hot and dirty fightin? That he was holding onto the page looking at it close when it tore right out!

It was only by luck he didn't let go or toss it cause it flopped like a fish in his hand, wiggling and if you don't keep a grip on them fish, they'll slip right out, you'll go hungry -

The page came out and twisted and flopped and finally settled where it flowed like water into a ball, clear and sparkly with no balloon to hold it there! More misbehavin' water -

And now there was a ghost shape of a pool in front of him on the ground, same shape as the picture, he could see the corn through it, the dirt - and then the shape of the swimming pool. Hickory felt that sudden flash of concern, again - the sound of a plate wobbling just before a crash, and he could just imagine -

That what would happen if he let it go? A whole mess of trouble, because what farmer wanted a swimming pool in the middle of their corn field? Just imagining how mad such a farmer would be had Hickory's eyes wider then that plate before he'd broke it - he tried sticking it back in the book, of course like everything else it didn't work like it was supposed to, it didn't turn back into a page and Hickory wouldn't risk dropping it because he knew.

He was stuck -

"How in the heck am I supposed to ride my bike?"

The answer was not very well - juggling a bike and a shotgun with one hand, a ball of water in the other, pockets full of shells? The ghost of a swimming pool keeping right ahead of him like headlight beams!

All the way to the park?

That if anybody asked the biggest miracle of the day wasn't no angel at all, it was that he only fell off that bike three times on the way there, that he didn't get hurt bad cause he was honest -

More trouble then it was all worth - he could swim in the river!

Though he had to admit it was neat building that big ole round swimming pool. That once he found a nice spot for it at the park and tossed the ball of water - it took only minutes for it to just melt right into the ground? That it was made of the same ole plain stone as the fountain and that was fine.

And wasn't it the nicest pool? All clear and so deep he couldn't see the bottom, Hickory was just gonna take a quick dip to cool off because he just rode miles, being itchy and stinking like a man from fightin' - he was already smiling and nobody was around so he stripped right down to just about nothin, piled up all his stuff -

"I reckon this ain't that bad a book after all, being that the pages do something useful." Hickory was backing far away from the pool, though - why?

Cause you didn't just dip your feet into no swimming pool, not in this good weather they were having, there was only one proper way to go in and it required a running start, as fast as you can and then a big jump - a big smile -

"Finally something good done come out of all this business." Hickory said just before he hit the water - and wouldn't it be wonderful? A nice swim? Wouldn't it be refreshing? Wouldn't it be a lesson to at least read the names of what them buildings were - what they did? Before jumping right in head first...