I Saw a Lantern Moving Through the Blizzard. I Shouldn’t Have Followed It.

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My battle cry sounded weak, overshadowed by the chaotic sounds of war. Men screaming in pain, the sound of cannons firing at our flanks, the crackle of grape shot ripping through trees and flesh, and the snap of muskets firing. My boots crunched over the frozen winter grass as our battle line closed in on the Confederates amid a chorus of shouts. Like most of the others around me, I'd fired my last shot and my hands shook as I gripped my springfield, keenly aware of the bayonet jutting from its end. Mary's face surfaced in my mind, as it often had since the war separated us. Her leaf-green eyes bright with mischief, strands of hay-colored hair falling across her face, the feel of her lips on mine when we married only a month before I enlisted. As with every other battle I'd been in, I knew I had to live through this one to make it back to her. And I knew that almost every other man on both sides was thinking the same. The same thing about his sweetheart back home. Including the man I locked eyes with across ten feet of frozen land. Brown eyes full of anger. A beard-rimmed mouth twisted in a sneer. Bayonet pointed at me, the same color as the cloudy sky. Bodies collided all around. I thrust my musket toward the man in the gray uniform while he drove his own at me. Gasping in pain, I opened my eyes to find myself miles and years away from the battlefield. My sleep-fogged mind struggled to make sense of the dark cabin, the pain in my gut, and the massive, bear-like shape looming over me. Then Mary's muffled shriek cut through the darkness, and I realized she was no longer beside me. Reflexes took over. By the time I staggered from the flaming cabin, bloody and scorched, and carrying my dead wife, I knew our attackers weren't normal bears. The assailants were demonic in nature. It was the only explanation for their bizarre appearance, their silence, their ability to take immense damage. No man could have survived what I'd done to those creatures, yet all three had escaped. One of them had even sent a burst of flame from its mouth, setting the cabin walls ablaze as they fled. Feeling like a ghost, I set Mary on the ground near the creek and gently adjusted her body. Her head had lolled against my arm as I carried her, attached to her body by little more than the spine. I spun around, determined to search the small state of her body, but I didn't find her. I tried to keep my eyes on her, but I couldn't find her. I didn't know if she was dead or alive. I knew she was dead, but I didn't know if she was alive or not. I didn't know if she was alive or not. I didn't know if she was dead or not. it's small. stub of tongue remained therein. His tongue had already been missing and healed when Mary and I stumbled across him on our journey into Montana territory. He'd been with us ever since, although we never learned what had happened to him. Mary tried to teach him how to write, but the progress had been slow, and now she was dead. I pulled him to his feet and dragged him away from the corpse. It was common practice for buffalo hunters to put poison in slaughtered buffaloes to kill wolves, coyotes, and bobcats for their pelts. In the process, they also killed skunks, eagles, vultures, and ravens. But the recently slaughtered bison gave me some little hope. It meant hunters were near. Finding them in the blizzard before freezing to death would be the hard part. I coach football. Now, Coach Hank saves up to 25% off grocery store prices, 30 pounds of pasta, three cases of protein bars, 75 sports drinks. Home of the Save. Join for just $20 at bjs.com slash mesquite and save 10 cents per gallon for six months. Open soon. Limited time offer, new members only. BJ's Home of the Save. From larger-than-life yard decor and moody lighting to festive accents for every room in the house. Wayfair has what you need to make Halloween feel like magic all in one place. That's W-A-Y-F-A-I-R dot com. My toes and fingers prickled and stung with the onset of frostbite. My leg muscles spasmed constantly as I trudged through shin-deep drifts. The now-powdery, snow-filled the tops of my boots with every step, shoving more and more of the frozen liquid inside. With no sheath for my knife, I kept it hilt-first in my right coat pocket, sharing the space with my balled-up right hand. With my left hand, I gripped Jacob's arm, pulling him along. The urge to lie down in the snow and rest grew with every torturous step. But I knew it would be a permanent rest. And although reuniting with Mary sounded more attractive than a hot meal in a warm bed, it would be a permanent rest. It would be like murdering Jacob myself. That, I could not do. I forced myself to keep going. My wounds flared angrily in the cold, sapping my energy with their constant cries for attention. The blizzard abated as we crested a hill, bringing a valley into view. I paused and gazed at the array of snow-covered mounds stretching all along the valley floor, hundreds of them. I thought back to the experience that had been haunting me for 15 years, staggering out of a field hospital tent, on a hill outside Murfreesboro, Tennessee, in January 1863. I'd been in the tent for hours, falling in and out of delirium, clutching my stomach wound. I had listened to the screams of men having their legs and arms amputated. I had smelled the blood and the stench of ruptured intestines. All the while, a battle raged outside. But as I staggered out, having finally been stitched and bandaged up, the landscape was silent. A snowstorm had rolled in, and the battle was over. We'd driven the Confederates away, but at a terrible cost. Dead men and horses lined the bloody frozen ground as far as I could see, a thin layer of snow building on them. Ever since feeling the Confederate soldier's bayonet punch into my gut while my own slid between his ribs, I'd felt like a ghost. And as I stood on that hill, it seemed like I was one. I had thought that ghostly feeling would pass, but it never did. Now, as I came back to the present, realization dawned on me. The snow-covered mounds weren't dead soldiers, but it was a killing ground nonetheless. I dragged a delirious Jacob down into the valley of death, and we picked our way amid the hundreds of slaughtered buffalo. It was likely that, under the snow, many of them still had their hides, but skinning a frozen carcass for the warm hide would be nearly impossible in my state. Scanning the horizon during the blizzard, I'd seen the snow-covered mounds, and I'd seen the blessed lull in the storm. I searched for any sign of hunters. We trudged through the killing field for several minutes before the snow resumed falling and blinding sheets. But just as the curtains of falling white were coming together, I spotted a dull light on a hill, the glow of a lantern. It moved along what I thought was a low ridge, as though someone was using it to light their way. Salvation imminent, I picked up the pace. After ten strides, Jacob collapsed, dragging me down. I pulled on his arm, urging him to get up, telling him we were almost there. He didn't respond. Eyelids closed, but twitching. In my weakened state, there was no way I could carry him. So I turned toward the light, which was barely visible through the falling snow. I shouted for help. I knew that if I left Jacob, it would be nearly impossible to find him again under the snow. The blizzard was already obscuring our tracks. I cried out twice more, squinting against the snow and death. Searching for some sign that the hunters heard me. The lantern blinked out. I sank to my knees, bare skin burning in the snow. After the attack, I couldn't stop wondering what Mary and I had done to deserve such evil. We had tried to live good lives. I had even served in the Union Army, believing I was doing my moral duty by fighting against slavery. The Bible commanded against murder. But what if that murder was in service of the greater good? Until my encounter with the King of Israel, I knew that God would hear my repentance, and would see that in my heart I was no killer, and that I had tried my level best to avoid sinning. But now, as the cold snow seemed to grow warm around me, I felt certain that God was not pleased with me, and my eternal punishment had begun early. Which meant I would not be reunited with Mary. There was no doubt as to the location of her eternal soul. If there was anyone on earth who had more goodness in their bones, I'd never met them. But I knew that God would hear my repentance, and would see that in me. I closed my eyes, praying once more for his forgiveness. Jacob groaned beside me. When I opened my eyes to look at him, my gaze caught a familiar dark figure gliding through the snow just a few feet away. The demon's bear-like mouth was open in a permanent snarl, sharp teeth standing out, even amid the thick snowfall. Closing the distance, it extended a savage, skeletal hand that resembled a massive eagle's foot, the talons frozen in place and sharp as straight razor's fingers. Instinct took over. The will to survive, to put off the fiery pits of hell for even a few more minutes, prompted me to throw myself backward, pulling my knife out of my coat pocket with one numb-fingered hand, the claw streaking along my chest, ripping through my coat, nightshirt, and flesh as I fell onto my back, whipping my blade out in a desperate flail. As was the case in the cabin, my knife made contact, but the beast's body didn't yield like that of a flesh and blood creature. Futile as the fight was, I could not hold it back. I could not hold it back. I couldn't lay my arms down and surrender. My time in the U.S. Army had beaten the notion out of me. I twisted in the snow, trying to get to my feet, but the demon was already coming back for me. I raised my right arm to block the incoming blow. The talons shredded my forearm, causing me to drop my knife into the snow. Jolts of pain rippled up my arm and a torrent of blood ran down it. The demon stumbled a few yards away, then turned to face me. Steam curled from its bear-like mouth as it charged again. I plunged my hand into the snow, searching for the knife. My numb fingers found it, but I could barely close them around the hilt. The creature closed in for the killing blow. I finally managed to grip the knife's hilt, but I knew it was too late. The talons were poised to slice my throat open, and I found I didn't have the energy to defend against it. A blurred figure crashed into the demon just before it reached me, sending them both sprawling across one of the snow-shrouded buffalo carcasses. Only then did I realize the figure was Jacob. He tried to shove him away, but it lashed out with its talons, slicing open the side of his neck. Crying out, I lunged to my feet on a wave of energy fueled by rage. Jacob stumbled away from the demon, blood spewing from his wounds, coloring the snow. My first instinct was to help Jacob, but the demon was already trying to rise. As I approached through the driving snow, I saw its head hanging at an unnatural angle. For a moment, I thought Jacob had broken its neck, but as I got closer, I realized its neck wasn't broken at all. My eyes, bright with pain, human eyes, glared at me from the depths of a soot-blackened face. It wasn't a demon. It was a man. The bare-head cowl had slid partially off, revealing a length of sheer black fabric that was thin enough for the man to see through, but dark enough that it had obscured the man's eyes when the cowl was in place. A man. Just a man. I hesitated, my eyes glancing to the claw weapon I now realized was strapped over his hidden hand. He gave up trying to stand and slumped against the buffalo. He coughed, spraying blood across his beard. Realization struck me again. I looked at the shape of the buffalo, which was partially visible after their impact had knocked some of the snow off. The man was at the buffalo's head. Jacob had tackled him directly onto one of the animal's horns. I darted around his side, away from the talons. The man shifted, trying to stay with me, but he jostled the horn, impaling him. He didn't cry out. He only clenched his and squeezed his eyes shut. I got behind him and moved in. in, pinning his talon arm down with my foot before he could slice me with it. He produced a hunting knife in his other hand, which he stabbed up toward me, but his positioning made it awkward, and I grabbed his wrist before he did any damage. My knife sank into his throat as easily as my bayonet had pierced the Confederate soldier's chest all those years ago. Blood poured from the man's throat as I pulled my blade free. Leaving him gasping in the snow, I hurried to Jacob. He lay motionless between the two buffalo carcasses. The boy was dead. I was back on the battlefield again, wondering why I had survived when so many of my fellow soldiers, my friends, had not. I stood and watched the man take his final breaths. Then I looked toward the ridge where I'd seen the light. How many demons are left? I wondered. Restore prices. 30 pounds of pasta. Three cases of protein bars. 75 sports drinks. He knows teamwork. And BJ's knows savings. Home of the Save. Join for just $20 at BJ's.com slash mesquite and save 10 cents per gallon for six months. Open soon. Limited time offer. New members only. BJ's. Home of the Save. The costume was so heavy, I began to doubt that the man I'd killed was entirely human. I couldn't understand how he had. moved so fast in such a cumbersome outfit. Most of the weight came from the strange body armor beneath the costume. It appeared to be made from walrus hide with segments of turtle shells sewn under a layer of silk. It was why my knife strikes had felt so strange. Knowing I could never move far or fast in the entire getup, I left the armor behind, instead dressing in the cowl and the other fur-covered clothes that, together, gave the impression of an otherworldly creature, at least in the dark of night. I also took the claw weapon, gripping the handle hidden inside its sleeve. Then I started toward the camp I'd seen through the storm. By the time I reached it, the fur-lined clothes and the thick socks I'd taken from the man had begun to thaw my frozen fingers and toes. Two canvas tents rippled in the breeze, snowdrifts building against the windward sides. A wagon sat nearby, its naked, skeletal ribs jutting up from the frame. I saw no horses, but they'd probably been corralled in a thick copse of trees to protect them from the worst of the blizzard. Neither tent showed any sign of life, but I knew there had to be others. There had been three at my cabin. I chose the tent on the left and approached with my knife ready. At the entrance, I unfastened the flap and ducked inside, then paused to let my eyes adjust to the darkness. A blanket lay on the ground beside an open wooden chest. I moved closer and noticed a circus advertisement showing three men who looked at me. I looked at them, and I saw them. I saw them. I saw them. I saw them. looked remarkably alike. Sure enough, the poster identified them as the Amazing Adolfi brothers. I studied the picture, and things started fitting together in my mind. One brother stood on his hands facing the camera, a smile on his upside-down face. Another brother stood balanced on the first one's upthrust feet. His arms were above his head as he held up the third brother, who lay stiffly prone across his two hands, shooting a flame from his mouth with the help of a torch held in one hand. Other pieces of paper sat under the advertisement. Newspaper clippings about heinous unsolved murders, about curious bear attacks, about savage beasts that moved like men. I crumpled the papers and threw them to the floor. I stepped back into the storm and crossed to the other tent. As I loosened the flap, a man spoke from inside. The words were harsh and unfamiliar, spoken and unheard of. I couldn't hear him. I couldn't hear him. I couldn't hear him. In a language I didn't recognize, I froze. The man spoke again, louder and more urgently this time. I looked back toward the killing field, toward where Jacob lay in the snow. If I killed the man inside this tent, would God see it as justice or murder? But then I thought of Mary's head hanging limply from her spine, the flesh hacked to the bone. Retrieving my knife, I opened the flap, ducked inside, and flinched at the crack of a gunshot. Things happened fast. I lurched across the tent, swinging the claw weapon at the man standing beside his blankets. He raised the rifle to block the attack. The claw struck his fingers, shattering them, forcing him to drop the weapon. I thrust my knife out. The blade slid between his ribs. I shoved it all the way to the hilt. The man stared at the blade in his chest for a moment before he collapsed. I stood with my bloody knife, peering at him as he clutched at the wound, speaking that strange language. He was dressed warmly, but I could still see a splint on his left leg. I remembered kicking one of the demons in the leg just before they fled my cabin. I must have done more damage than I thought. Looking around, I verified that there was no one else in the tent. I asked where his brother was, but he didn't answer. He just stared at the wound in his chest, struggling for every breath. He died moments later, sputtering and gasping. I found the third brother under the wagon, dead and wrapped in a shroud. As I trudged back toward the unoccupied tent, I fell to my knees, suddenly short of breath. Lifting the thick shirt I'd taken from the man in the killing field, I saw a hole in my chest that leaked blood. The rifle shot. He hit me. I turned and looked toward the killing field, blanketed by the falling snow. That familiar sense of being untethered from the world surged through me. I got to my feet and shambled down into the valley. As I reached the first snow-covered mounds, I realized they had changed. They were no longer buffalo corpses. They were soldiers dressed in gray, yellow, brown, and blue. Picking my way among them, I prayed for forgiveness once more, and I thought of Mary. Her leaf-green eyes full of understanding and love. The way her face had thinned over the years, becoming even more beautiful than in her youth. The feeling of her body pressed against me in our bed as sleep crept over us. Soon, I found what I was looking for, right next to Jacob. My body lay there, fifteen years younger, and dressed in a mud-splattered blue uniform. I stared at the snow-shrouded Jacob, his features not fully obscured. Jacob, the mysterious orphan, who was as close to a son as I'd ever had. A bull-headed boy who would sleep in the stable with the horses on all but the most of frigid nights. But a hard worker and smart, in his own way. More loyal than anyone but Mary. Settling myself into the snow beside the boy, I looked up into the night sky. Flakes twirled and tumbled toward me, more numerous than the stars. Blinking, I let the falling snow lull me toward my eternal rest. That ghostly feeling I'd been carrying with me all these years slipped away on a gust of wind. Something warm pressed up against me. I smiled. It was Mary. I closed my eyes, and let the snow cover me. What more? Subscribe and turn on all notifications so you never miss any of our weekly uploads. Upfront payment of $45 for three months, $90 for six months, or $180 for 12-month plan required. Greater than 50 gigabytes. May slow when network is busy. See terms.