Chapter 3: the Pride

A hundred miles south of the Sanctuary, near a town called Leadville, Colorado, no one knew of the group living in Mt. Powell. People had seen the choppers on patrol, but the choppers flew so high they weren't able to tell what was in the sky above them. All that would soon change forever...

As he looked out over the field of corn, he smiled. It was going to be a great harvest this season. Prompting memories of the hardship it had taken to get the farm that now stretched before his eyes. His father and three older brothers had worked relentlessly using axes and mules to clear the sixty acres of all the pine tree stumps. The farm was completely surrounded by the magnificent pine trees. It was a perfect place to grow almost anything. Forty years ago, when he was five, his family had moved to the little valley called White River, from Leadville, Colorado. The family wanted to get away from the perpetual violence that plagued the growing town. After forty years, the farm was really starting to pay off.

As John walked through the rows of corn, he was smiling with anticipation of the supper that his wife, Mary, was making. He could almost taste the fried chicken and mashed potatoes. Hearing a sound in the cornrows behind him, John hollered out Hurry up Bobby, your mom's about got supper ready! There was no reply from his son, just the same movement in the corn. Bobby quit messing around and get up here with me.

Annoyed at his son's game. Then John began to worry. Even though their farm was forty miles from Leadville, most of the mutants were supposed to have been killed or driven off. But every now and then one stilled showed up, and someone usually died before the mutant was hunted down and killed.

Man! I knew I should have brought my shotgun, John thought, sensing that something didn't feel right. "Hey Dad!" Bobby called from the barn. John looked to see his son in the hayloft pointing at him. Suddenly he felt the hairs on his neck tingle and his blood ran cold. His mind raced. If Bobby was up there, then who was behind him? "Run dad!" Bobby yelled. Just then John heard a low growl from the cornrows behind him.

Running as fast as he could, John was afraid to look back. He cleared the corn running across the yard, when his wife came out of the house holding a shotgun. "What is it John?" she gasped. Her eyes wide, seeing the stark terror on Johns face.

"Get inside and lock the door Mary!" he yelled as he took the shotgun from her.

Turning back to the corn, he looked for movement in the rows but saw only the gentle wind rustling the tops of the cornfield. "Bobby are you O.K.?" he yelled. There was no answer from the barn. Moving to towards the barn keeping his eyes on the corn, John approached the building. With his back against the barn door, John shifted the shotgun to his left hand, afraid to take his eyes off the field of corn. He used his right hand to unlatch the door.

"Bobby!" John called, trying to restrain the panic he felt. Hearing no reply to his call, John became truly frightened; it wasn't like his son to not answer him at a time like this. John slid inside the door and quickly dropped the heavy beam across the heavy u-shape brackets made of steel. The door secured, John did a quick scan of the lower barn, and said "Bobby," again in a hushed whisper.

Moving from stall to stall, John found on sign of his son. That left only the hayloft where Bobby had called his warning. Feeling fairly secure, John paused to double check the old shotgun, snapping it open and verifying it had two shells in it. He started to climb the ladder up to the hayloft. "Bobby!" he whispered again. Peering over the ladder into the loft, he saw nothing at first.

Bobby had been in the large door used to throw hay up into the loft. Now that door was shut making it almost pitch black, and hard to see anything. John carefully felt his way along the railing, and over to the door. He found the edge of the door and opened it, flooding the loft with sunlight. Trying to adjust his eyes to the brightness John squinted. "Bobby?" he whispered.

Suddenly there was a scratching noise above him and a sledgehammer weight fell on his back knocking him to the hard wooden floor. Something slammed into his head, and John lost consciousness. It might have been minutes or hours, John had no way of knowing. He woke to the sound of screams. As he was trying to clear his blurred vision the screams stopped. As his vision cleared John was astounded to see a monster standing over him that looked like a mix between lion and a man.

It was at least six feet tall and stood on it's back two legs. The front legs were really more like a human's hands and arms. Jutting out of each hairy finger were three-inch claws that retracted even as John watched. Its head was truly that of a lion, except unlike the normal animal it was minus the black mane. It was totally covered in fur and wearing a loincloth made of deerskin. John's gaze followed down to floor level, where he saw the legs tapered into huge paws.