Colt backed up slow. Clay moved with him, eyes locked on the cat.

  “Use that dead eye thing,” Clay said through his teeth. “Stab that thing in the fuckin’ face, man.”

  Colt tried to pull it up.

  DEAD EYE: INACTIVE

  01:02

  01:01

  His chest tightened. The timer kept ticking down in the corner of his vision.

  “Fuck,” Colt breathed. “I got a minute.”

  “For what?”

  “I don’t know. A minute before I can use it.”

  Clay’s hand dropped to his belt where his shotgun should’ve been. His fingers closed on nothing. “Shit.”

  The saber-tooth dropped into a crouch. Its shoulders bunched and its muscles rolled under its fur. A low growl rolled out of its chest, deep enough Colt felt it in his chest.

  “Fuck,” Clay said. “Portal then. Get us the fuck outta here.”

  The cat’s lips pulled back. Teeth longer than Colt’s hand showed white against its gums.

  It rushed forward.

  Clay screamed and turned to run.

  The cat blew past them. It grabbed a dead terror bird by the neck and kept going, dragging the carcass into the trees. Branches snapped as it disappeared into the brush. The sound faded.

  Clay stopped mid-stride. He turned back, breathing hard. His face had gone pale.

  Colt let out a sharp laugh. His chest loosened and his hands stopped shaking. “It just wanted one of them big birds.”

  Clay walked back, his legs unsteady. His jaw worked like he wanted to say something but couldn’t get it out. He wiped his face with both hands.

  “Hang on.” Clay jogged back to where his boot had landed. He picked it up and shook it out. Pulled it on. “Shit. Foot’s bleedin’ pretty good.”

  Colt walked to where his revolver lay in the dirt. He picked it up and brushed the dirt off.

  SIDEARM EQUIPPED

  Colt Single Action Army — .45

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  He thumbed the cylinder open. Dumped the casings in into his satchel, then pulled out a handful of cartridges, loading them one at a time. The brass caught the light filtering through the canopy.

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  He snapped the cylinder shut and holstered it.

  Clay limped over. “I lost my damn shotgun in the river.”

  “I know.”

  “That was Pa’s.” Clay’s voice went flat. “Only thing I had left of his that still worked.”

  Colt looked at him. “I know.”

  Clay kicked at the dirt. “Shit.”

  Colt opened his map. The cave marker sat east. He turned to face it. “Alright. This way.” He patted Clay’s shoulder.

  Clay stood there a second longer looking toward the river.

  They started to move through the forest. Colt kept his hand near the dagger. Clay limped but didn’t complain.

  The trees thinned out where the bluff started. Rock rose steep ahead of them, gray stone cutting up into blue sky. Loose shale lay scattered at the base.

  Colt checked his map. “It’s up there somewhere.”

  They climbed. Dirt gave way to stone under their boots. Colt grabbed onto roots and jutting rocks to pull himself higher. His shoulders burned. Behind him, Clay’s breathing got rougher with each step. His bad foot slipped twice and Colt had to wait while he caught himself.

  By the time they reached the top, Colt’s legs were shaking. He pulled himself over the edge and stood, breathing hard. Clay came up a second later and dropped to his hands and knees.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  “Give me a second,” Clay said between breaths.

  Colt looked around. The forest stretched out below them, green and brown bleeding together. The river cut through the middle of it all, a dark line snaking toward the horizon. He could see where they’d crossed it, the log bridge barely visible from up here.

  The first birds body still against the log.

  The cave mouth opened dark against the bluff.

  Bones lay scattered around the entrance.

  Massive ones. Ribs thick as Colt’s leg. A skull the size of a wagon wheel with tusks longer than Colt’s arm. Femurs split open, marrow long gone. Some bleached white by sun and time. Others still had meat clinging to them, dark strips hanging off the bone. Flies buzzing everywhere.

  Fresh kills mixed with old ones. All piled around the cave like a dumping ground.

  Clay pushed himself up and saw it. His face went pale.

  “That bear,” Clay said. “The one in the picture Kevin showed us.” He stared at the bones. “You think it’s still in there?”

  Colt looked at the boneyard. Then at the dark opening beyond it. At the entrance big enough for something huge to walk through without ducking.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I think it might be.”

  They stood at the edge of the boneyard. Colt’s boots scraped against rock as he picked his way through the scattered remains toward the cave mouth. He stepped over a rib that came up past his knee.

  Clay limped behind him. “We’re really goin’ in there.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Into the bear cave.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Just checkin’.”

  The entrance sat dark against the bluff. About ten feet wide, maybe twice that tall. Big enough for something massive to walk through without ducking.

  Colt stopped at the threshold and looked back. The forest stretched out below them, green bleeding into brown where the river cut through. The sun had dropped lower. They didn’t have much daylight left.

  He turned back to the cave.

  It was black. No light past the first few feet.

  “Hang on.” Colt dug in his satchel. His fingers closed around the small box of matches.

  He looked around the boneyard. Dry wood lay scattered among the bones, pieces of branches the bear must’ve dragged in with kills. He grabbed one about as long as his arm and thick as his wrist.

  Clay watched him. “What’re you doin’?”

  “Can’t just walk in blind.” Colt struck a match. The flame jumped to life. He held it to the end of the branch and waited. The bark caught slow, smoke curling up, then the flame spread and held.

  He waved it once. The torch burned steady.

  “Stay close,” Colt said.

  He stepped into the cave.

  Damp air replaced the dry heat. The walls pressed in on both sides, rough stone that looked like it’d been carved out by water a long time ago. His boots scraped dirt and loose rock. The sound echoed.

  Clay’s footsteps echoed behind him. “What do we do if that bear shows up?”

  “Run. I guess.”

  Clay sighed.

  The torch threw shadows that jumped across the walls. They stretched long and twisted, reaching ahead into the dark. Colt kept his free hand on the stone, feeling his way. The surface was rough under his palm, uneven. Cold.

  They walked deeper. The light from the entrance faded behind them. Colt looked back once and saw it shrinking to a gray patch. Then it was gone. Just the torch now, and the sound of their boots and breathing.

  The walls seemed closer here. Colt couldn’t see the ceiling of the cave.

  “Colt.” Clay’s voice came out quiet.

  “What.”

  Colt stopped. He held still and listened.

  A sound came from deeper in the cave. Low. Like a rumble in the earth. It vibrated through the stone under his boots.

  They both froze.

  The sound faded. Silence filled the space after it.

  Colt’s hand tightened on the torch. He strained to hear anything else. His heart pounded in his chest.

  “What was that?” Clay whispered.

  “Don’t know.”

  They waited. Nothing followed. The cave stayed quiet except for the faint crackle of the torch flame.

  “C’mon.” Colt started walking again. Slower now. His hand stayed on the wall.

  The cave curved left. The walls got smoother as they went. Too smooth. Colt ran his hand along the stone and stopped.

  “Clay. Feel this.”

  Clay put his palm against the wall. His fingers moved across it. “That ain’t right.”

  It wasn’t. The texture had changed from rough stone to something else. Still cold, but flat. Almost slick.

  Colt held the torch closer. The firelight caught the surface and showed metal. Clean lines. No rust. No wear.

  “What the hell,” Colt said.

  The walls weren’t stone anymore. They’d turned into something built. Metal plates joined together with seams so tight he could barely see them. The floor changed too, dirt giving way to something solid under his boots.

  His chest tightened. This wasn’t right. None of this was right.

  He followed the wall his his eyes and saw doors.

  Massive doors straight ahead, rising up to the ceiling. Twenty feet tall at least, maybe more. The metal looked dark in the torchlight, almost black.

  Clay stepped up beside him. His mouth hung open. “Why the hell are they so big?”

  Colt didn’t answer. He walked to the doors and ran his hand along the seam where they met. His fingers caught on something. He pulled the torch closer.

  Gouges. Deep ones. Running vertical down the metal in sets of four and five.

  Claw marks.

  Colt’s hand traced one of them. The metal was torn, curled up at the edges where something had raked across it with enough force to leave furrows. Some of the marks were old, smoothed over. Others looked fresh, the metal still bright where it had been scraped.

  “Clay.”

  Clay leaned in. His eyes went wide. “The bear.”

  “Yeah.”

  “It tried to get through.”

  Colt looked at the marks. At how deep they went. At how many there were.

  He pressed both palms flat against the metal and pushed.

  Nothing moved.

  “Help me.”

  Clay stepped up beside him. They both set their shoulders against the doors and shoved.

  The doors didn’t budge. The seam stayed tight.

  Not even a hairline crack to work with.

  “Shit.” Colt stepped back. He looked up at the doors, then around the space. The torch was burning lower now, the flame getting smaller.

  Something caught his eye in the corner. A box mounted on the wall to the right of the doors. Square, about the size of his hand, with a dark surface that reflected the firelight.

  He walked to it. Up close, he could see a small circle in the center, darker than the rest.

  “What is it?” Clay asked.

  “Don’t know.”

  Colt leaned in closer. The circle looked like glass. He could see his own face reflected in it, distorted by the curve.

  He pressed his hand against it. Nothing happened.

  He tried pushing different parts of the box. Still nothing.

  Then he looked at the glass circle again. It was about the size of an eye.

  Colt leaned down and put his face close. He lined his eye up with the circle and looked into it.

  A thin line of green light swept across his eye.

  He jerked back.

  The cave started to rumble.

  “Oh shit.” Clay backed up. “What’d you do?”

  Dust fell from the ceiling. The floor vibrated under Colt’s boots. The sound got louder, building from somewhere deep in the rock around them.

  Then it stopped.

  The doors hissed.

  A crack of light showed between them. The doors started sliding apart, slow at first, then faster. Metal scraped against metal. More light spilled out, bright and white.

  Colt held his arm up against the glare. His eyes watered. The doors kept opening.

  When they stopped, a corridor stretched out ahead of them. Lights ran along the ceiling in two rows, buzzing the same way the HUB buzzed. The walls were smooth and white. The floor looked like polished stone.

  Clay stepped up beside him. “What is this place?”

  Colt didn’t answer. He couldn’t.

  He dropped the torched, stomped it out and walked through the doors.