-This is a place of uneasy spirits- Jacob's mouth dropped open even as the sound of bowstrings thrummed the air. Arrows hissed past on both sides.

Half a dozen impacts issued from behind, like fists. .h.i.tting a pillow.

Moving with the tarry slowness of a nightmare, Jacob swung around to see his wife falling backwards, wooden shafts jutting from her torso and legs. She collapsed with her eyelids peeled back in shock, teeth bared in a display of animalistic horror. Sadie tumbled from her grasp, landing facedown in the snow.

"No!" Jacob bellowed.

Something punched him in the back.

He glanced down to see an obsidian arrowhead poking through his coat, just over the right breast pocket. Thin wisps of steam trailed from the blood smeared across its surface.

Jacob glanced up, immobilized by shock.

He saw Sadie, still stuck in the snow, unable to move. Kate rolled toward her, reaching out, striving to help the girl in spite of her wounds.

Then his eyes caught a flash of movement from the hunters beyond his wife and child, and suddenly five arrows stabbed into his legs.

The cold stone missiles punched through his aching muscles with brutal force, ravaging his flesh. Their sharp points chipped against bone.

Jacob howled in agony but lunged toward Kate as he fell, now hearing the terrible chorus of multiple knife blades as they were drawn from their sheaths.

The natives charged forward, casting up a blizzard of snow with their footsteps.

Someone dropped down on Jacob's back, pinning him in place.

He struggled to free himself, but each twist caused him to sink farther into the icy carpet covering the valley, pressing the arrowheads deeper into his legs.

His breaths came out as a thunder of pain and rage.

The weight on his back shifted and someone snared his right arm, yanking it back. The steel edge of a blade found the joint of one finger and sliced it from his hand.

Jacob screamed.

Then again. And again.

The cold valley air struck the exposed nerves like liquid nitrogen poured into his veins. Teeth bit down on the open flesh and sucked his blood from the wounds.

"Yessss," an ancient voice hissed with inhuman pleasure.

Jacob growled through the pain when the attacker released his arm, watching helplessly from ground level as one of the hunters seized Sadie by the leg and dragged her away, a stone tomahawk clutched in his free hand.

Kate grabbed at the man, s.n.a.t.c.hing a leather strap from his boot before another native dropped to his knees behind her. He tore off her hat and clutched a fistful of her hair. With his other hand, he brought a gleaming knife to her scalp and- The top of the man's head exploded.

Even in his current condition of unparalleled terror, Jacob flinched at the sight. The shattered fragments of the hunter's skull sailed through the air like confetti, soon joined by the distant report of a gunshot.

Jacob craned his head to one side and saw four muzzle flashes blink on the horizon.

The headless attacker kneeling beside Kate pushed to his feet, standing even as the bullets punched holes through his torso and exploded out his back in great plumes of dust.

The man didn't stagger. Didn't fall.

He disintegrated.

One moment he appeared as a solid figure standing tall; a heartbeat later he'd become a man-shaped acc.u.mulation of twigs, dirt, and leaves that blew apart in the wind.

The other natives had ceased in mid-action, and now all turned toward the wood line even as a fresh round of gunshots flashed from the shadows.

The tribesman looming over Sadie fell backward, his chest torn open to expose a hollow s.p.a.ce filled with dried weeds and animal fur.

Another man's shoulder erupted into a cloud of brown pine needles and feathers.

The weight on Jacob's back suddenly lifted, and he looked up to see the old man standing over him, his eyes empty black pits, his mouth opened impossibly wide, filled with a hundred mismatched animal fangs. An inhuman shriek erupted from the cavern of his throat; then a rifle blast ripped it from his body sending his severed head rolling through the air, trailing streams of black ash.

It crashed to the snow and disintegrated into a dusty heap of crushed bones and black hair.

Several more gunshots boomed, now closer, but when Jacob glanced up again all he could see was Kate's slumped form laying just out of reach. The heart wrenching sound of Sadie's weeping emanated from somewhere nearby.

"Hang on, baby," Jacob called, trying to raise himself high enough to find her. "Daddy's coming, baby, just hang on."

The butchered remains of his damaged hand reddened the snow when he attempted to push himself upright, and he screamed in agony when both arms sunk up to his elbows. Ice crystals stabbed at his wounds.

"Kate?" he howled. "Oh, G.o.d, Kate, answer me."

"Jacob."

The roar of a snowmobile engine overpowered his sob of relief at the sound of Kate's voice, and within moments he heard the soft crunch of footfalls growing near.

He faced the sound to see another group of American Indians rush forward.

One of them lifted Sadie from the snow, gently wiping her face. Another rushed to Kate with a multi-tool, using its pliers to trim the arrow shafts. A third knelt beside her with a first aid kit.

Three others stood watch with rifles in hand, scanning the landscape with impatient glances.

Suddenly, a pair of hands settled on Jacob's shoulders and rolled him onto his back. A broad-faced Indian stared into his eyes.

Jacob tensed, kicking his feet, pushing away.

"Try to relax," the tribesman said. "We'll get you to a hospital but we must hurry."

It took a moment for the words to sink in, but then Jacob detected the tones of warmth and compa.s.sion. Unlike the elder, this man's breath puffed in the cold.

Jacob tried to speak, failed, then tried again.

"My daughter. My wife."

"Are being cared for," the man said. He unfolded a cutting tool and quickly snipped the wood shafts jutting from Jacob's body, setting off a dozen explosions of pain. Agony raked its claws along his nerves where the arrowheads nestled in his flesh.

"I'm sorry," the man said. He pulled Jacob to a stand, hauling him forward. "We don't have a choice. Time is running out. The blood makes them stronger."

Jacob eyed him across his shoulder. "They were dead."

The Indian nodded. "This is cursed ground, the burial place of a thousand rogue shamans who tried to stop the settlers from pa.s.sing into the West. They were the drinkers of blood, and the eaters of children. They defied the Great Spirit to gain their power, and now they are trapped here, immortal but imprisoned."

He deposited Jacob on the back of a snowmobile. Every muscle in his body seemed to disconnect from his bones, and he sagged into the seat. Several feet away Kate and Sadie were helped onto another sled.

"They're coming," one of the men shouted.

The broad-faced Indian spun toward the voice. Jacob followed his gaze to where one of the riflemen pointed into the black gulf of the valley.

The snow was moving.

"But you destroyed them!" Jacob cried.

"Only the sunlight can do that," the man replied. "We must hurry!"

Sixty yards away a swell the size of a house had raised from the flat landscape, pushed upward from something beneath.

"Go," another man yelled. The others jumped on their snowmobiles and the engines roared as the throttles cranked open. They spun and raced for the far tree line, the icy wind nipping at Jacob's flesh like a buzzard.

He clung to his rescuer with all the strength he had left, glancing back just long enough to see the huge swell moving closer. The snow spilled away as it shifted and flexed, revealing the leathery hides of a thousand mummified corpses surging forth as a single, monstrous mound.

It was a ma.s.s-grave come to life. Chaos made flesh.

The mere sight ripped the breath from Jacob's lungs and clawed at his sanity. He saw bone and hair and muscle and skin, teeth and eyes and dehydrated entrails. It moved with unearthly speed, closing the gap between them with the horrific pace of a nightmare.

Then they were past the trees, plowing into the forest. Evergreen boughs slapped Jacob's head and body, folding inward behind him to block his view of the madness pursuing them. A second later they shot through another barrier of bones. Shattered skeletons rained to the ground, knocked loose from their tethers.

The snowmobiles slid to a halt, their front skis grating on hidden rocks and branches. Jacob shook his head, thinking No! Don't stop! even as an enormous shadow darkened the thin s.p.a.ces between the trees. The forest went black. Even the stars vanished from sight.

The t.i.tanic horror hit the tree line and exploded into a blizzard of snow. A huge cloud of white filled the air, blasting through the branches to cover the area with an additional two feet of powder.

When Jacob looked up again, the monster was gone. Stars once again dappled the night.

He hauled himself off the snowmobile. Pain knotted his insides, but he limped to Kate and Sadie, dropping beside them and clutching them in his arms. Kate's pants glimmered with blood, but her grip was strong when she hugged him.

Jacob's rescuer stepped up beside him, laying a hand on his shoulder.

"We're safe," the man said. "The dead cannot pa.s.s the barrier."

No, Jacob wanted to say, the dead can't get through it, but the dying still can.

He looked down at his hand and moaned at the bony claws that had sprouted from where his fingers had been severed, watching as the muscle and tendons and skin reformed around the bite marks in his flesh.

The pain in his gut intensified. He could feel his bodily fluids turn to dust, his organs shrivel inside him. He gagged as his throat became a cracked desert and winced as sharp fangs burst from his gums.

He gazed at his rescuers and would have wept if he could.

They'd risked their lives to save his family.

Now he only hoped they'd be enough to sate the centuries-long hunger that was boiling inside him, at least long enough for Kate and Sadie to get away.

Cold Calls.

JOHN F.D. TAFF.

"Last, we've got Buddy Burnett," said Mr. Hastings, sighing heavily.

The slide clicked onto the screen, and Buddy felt himself sinking into his padded seat. He was glad they kept the conference room lights dim for these sales meetings, so no one could see his cheeks flush or his hands leaving wet smudges on the table's surface, so he didn't have to see the pity in the others' eyes. It always came from people who liked Buddy, people who meant well. But it made him feel hollow inside.

Hastings clicked the slide from the screen, but not before the descending red lines burned into the retinas of the entire sales staff.

As the lights came on, everyone's eyes avoided Buddy.

"Buddy, could you stay a moment?" said Hastings as everyone rose to leave.

Hastings closed the door and motioned him back to a seat.

"We have a problem, you and I," said Hastings. "For the last five quarters now, you haven't met goal. In fact, your sales have declined."

"I know it's been off, sir, but I think ... "

"Buddy, maybe it's time you stepped down, took some of the pressure off yourself."

"Let me have just two more weeks. If I can't turn it around, then I'll ... I'll quit. But give me this one chance," Buddy said in a rush.

Hastings frowned. "What can you expect to accomplish in two weeks that you haven't in 15 months?"

"I don't know. But what have you got to lose?"

Hastings pondered this for a moment, then smiled sourly. "If you can sell me that easily, it's a wonder you haven't met your goal."

"Yes, sir. Thanks," said Buddy, grabbing Hastings' limp hand in his own and pumping it.

"I may have a prospect for you," Hastings said, reaching into his black suit and pulling out a pink telephone message slip. "I hope I'm doing the right thing by pa.s.sing this to you, Buddy."

"You are, sir," Buddy said, looking gratefully at the old man. "Well, have casket, will travel."

The mortuary loomed in the twilight; an imposing white structure perched high on the river bluffs in Alton. Buddy pulled the car onto the gravel road that wound its way to the front of the old mansion.

A mortuary this size had to represent a substantial contract.