Old Gods of Appalachia - Episode 76: The Good Son

Episode Date: February 14, 2025

The first story arc of season five comes to its inevitable conclusion.CW: Gunfire, kidnapping, fist fighting, gore, body horror, desecration of corpses, monster noises, howls, animal sounds, death of a child, ritual mutilation, death by monster, death by flora.Written by Steve Shell and Cam CollinsNarrated by Steve ShellSound design by Steve ShellProduced and edited by Cam Collins and Steve ShellThe voice of Cowboy Absher: Brandon BentleyThe voice of Kelson Stallard: Kelson StallardIntro music: “The Land Unknown (The Home is Nowhere Verses)” written and performed by Landon BloodOutro music: “I Cannot Escape the Darkness” by Those Poor BastardsSpecial equipment consideration provided by Lauten Audio.LEARN MORE ABOUT OLD GODS OF APPALACHIA: www.oldgodsofappalachia.comCOMPLETE YOUR SOCIAL MEDIA RITUAL:FacebookInstagramBlueskySUPPORT THE SHOW:Join us over at THE HOLLER to enjoy ad-free episodes, access exclusive storylines and more.Find t-shirts, hoodies, mugs, and other Old Gods merch at oldgodsmerch.com.Transcripts available on our website at www.oldgodsofappalachia.com/episodes.Support this show http://supporter.acast.com/old-gods-of-appalachia. Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

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Right about now. Old Gods of Appalachia is our... a horror anthology podcast and therefore may contain material not suitable for all audiences. So listener discretion is advised. Baker's Gap, Tennessee, 1989. Kelson Stalard gazed out the window of his room at the Motel 6, holding the phone between his shoulder and cheek as he slid his calling cart. back into his wallet.

He let his eyes take in the scenic view of the parking lot while he waited for the miracle of modern long distance to manifest and connect him to his wife over in Blackmore, Virginia. There were a handful of cars and trucks scattered across the wide swath of pitted asphalt. A couple of family-sized sedans were parked outside of two of the rooms downstairs. One-18 wheelers stood like a bulwark in the hazy lights at the edge of the lot. The remaining three were pickup trucks. Two parked side by side bearing the name of an out-of-town business and the other near his own trusty Azuzu trooper.

It had taken him a solid half hour to get from Big Gap Road back to the motel, and Kelson was already regretting allowing his father to stay and visit with his old school teacher and her nephew. If he wanted to pick his dad up by any respectable time, he'd have to turn right back around and head back over. over there after this phone call. As his eyes roamed over the vehicles outside, he spotted movement in the shadows where the glow of the towering metal halide sentinels gave way to the darkness of the abandoned lot

between the motel and the main road. He squinted and moved to get a better look. But as he did, the call connected and his wife's voice drew his attention away from the window. Oh, hey, honey. Yeah, we made it. No trouble at all. Easy drive all the way.

Oh yeah, telling stories and doing his thing. You know how he is. Nah, he did good. Hibbothered him a little bit, but he's all right, I think. Oh, yeah, good turnout. Dad got to see a lot of old friends. In fact, he's over at his old school teacher's house right now. She's known dad since he was a boy.

Yeah, I know, right? I was surprised he wasn't the oldest. one there too. How was your day? You let the dog out? Kelson's gaze wandered back out the window, as Pearl reported on the doings of her day and what the dog was up to. He noticed that movement again. This time he could see two people, men by the look of him, wandering amongst the parked cars. One of them drifted close to an old Subaru and peered in its winter, and the other waved him over in the direction of the space where the trooper sat. Kelsen. tensed.

He did not come all the way out to the ass into nowhere just to get his car broken into. He dealt with this kind of thing before on the campgrounds of the National Forest near home, and it was never fun. Hey, hey, Pearl Girl, I'm sorry to cut you off, baby, but I got to run. It's a bit of a drive back out to where I left Dad, and I think I'm going to hit the Pals. Dad hardly ate anything today, and I figure a couple of big pals with cheese and a shake would see him right.

Uh-huh. I know, I know. Lester off, blah, blah, blah, blah. Well, maybe we'll split them. Kelson could see clearly now the men were hovering around his vehicle. One moving around the back and inspecting his tag, then glancing around the lot before motioning to the second.

The other man began to Jimmy the driver's side door. Kelson swore under his breath. I got to go, babe. I'll call you before we head out in the morning. Okay. Love you too. Bye. He dropped the handset back into its cradle, grabbed his keys and bolted out the door leading to the shared balcony on the second floor.

He could clearly see the men had his door open now. What the hell y'all doing? Get the hell out of there. Kelson made for the stairs, pounding down to the ground floor and into the parking lot. He was no more than 20 yards away from the scene of the crime when he hollered again. Y'all better leave that car the hell alone or you're going to regret it, and I ain't talking about the law. Kelson broke into a run and expected the two strangers to do the same, but they did not. They just stood there with nothing but the cool evening air and a late model Silverado between them and him.

The two men glanced up from their thievery as Kelson slowed to a stop. What the hell? They both appeared incongruously to be dressed in Halloween costumes. He could see that the one playing lookout had on a cape with a high collar with his face painted up like Dracula or some shit. Even more ridiculously, the smaller, of the two wore a chainmail halberk and crusaders tabards straight out of Monty Python. It's the stupidest thing he'd ever seen, and he'd seen a lot in his days as a forest ranger.

Kelson switched into good old boy mode, hoping to head off the escalation of hostilities. Oh, hey now, boys, if y'all how I tell it now, ain't nobody going to get hurt. The knight looked him up and down nervously, clearly surprised at how tall a man Kelson's towered was up close. The count peered up at him with fear in his heavily masqueried eyes. Just step away from my trooper, and we'll call this a misunderstanding. Y'all just get it, and we'll say no more about it. They were just kids. Kelsey could see that now that he was closer.

How shabby and silly their outfits were, and how scared they were once confronted. What he could not see was the bigger, older man, who slid from behind that late model Chevy Silverado wearing heavy brass knucks. And after that, Helson didn't see anything. Get swallowed.

Ace that feels like home to strangers. And you cast your eyes through the winding road. Keep your foot on the gas, your eyes straight forward, clear your heart and best leave them ghosts behind.

It grows cold as well. When darkness calls, run like hell. Your side. as he stepped down from the cab of the diesel behemoth that had carried him back to the one place he thought he would never lay eyes on again. The sights and sounds of this place wrapped on a dozen doors inside his mind and he was tempted to let a few of them fly open. They'd come in through the reservoir entrance proper. The same path he and Floyd had walked long ago when the lake itself had been the rendezvous point for the weekend expedition.

An owl called from over his left shoulder And he recalled if he started walking up the hill through those woods He'd eventually come to the backyard of a little shotgun house That once belonged to Tim and Marie Duncan Shane's grandparents The Duncan's cozy kitchen had been the side of some of the best meals cowboy He had ever eaten Shane's memo and papal had always been kind to him

Never treating him any differently from any other young who showed up for Sunday dinner. When he looked back over the lake, he could see the changes that had come to Bear Creek Reservoir over the years, with both the passing of time and the less graceful touch of men. In the lines of power and death before him,

he could see the way the landscape had been twisted and mangled to suit the needs of residents of the surrounding county who, to be fair, just wanted clean drinking water. When Cowboy had lost his, his first family to the pale woman in the woods, whatever strange marks she had placed on him had shifted the way he saw the world. He was given a second lens through which to see it, a lens that let him see the bending blade of time as it passed and would pass through all that he loved. That lens lay bare the secrets of both life and the green.

Cowboy learned that some places would trigger his second sight no matter how hard. He tried, sights that held too much death, such as graveyards, or the deep places in the woods where generations of critters and wild things had laid down their bones were the most common. With his sight fully open, he could see those lost things deep beneath the cold dark earth. Feel them lift their eyes to him like watchful hounds guarding their master. The darkness locked inside him would call to those long, still beings, waking them from their final repose and putting them on notice. should the curse he carried call for them to ride. For a long time, once the dark aura of protection that surrounded him in those moments was engaged, Cowboy had no control over what happened next.

He had seen it manifest in different forms over the years. On that long ago night on the reservoir, he had not been awake when it happened. But Floyd had told him about the great beast that rose from the heart of Death Island, about how it both saved and nearly killed them all. He hadn't been knocked out or merely sleeping that night on the island. He'd been dead. The black shadow that had terrorized Kurt Kilgore since the death of his father had smacked young cowboys so hard that his neck snapped,

and he felt the light leave his body like a candle guttering on a window seal, and for a moment there was nothing but a smothering darkness that seemed to bloom from within him like a dense fog. No light, no air, no sound, just a thick softness, as though somebody had swaddled him in a quilt made a midnight. For a moment, all was peaceful and still, and he knew and felt nothing. Then his eyes had opened, and he saw the other side of the veil.

He saw the old black door standing wide, just for him, saw the hands of his mama and his papal reaching out from just beyond its threshold, And then the pain came, and the door slammed shut with a heavy final iron clang. He'd watched his adopted daddy, a blacksmith by trade, bend metal with a white-hot flame and a hammer a hundred times, and that's what this had felt like. Lightning, fire, and wind slammed into his tiny frame and dragged him back to the world of the living, breathing and whole, but seared around the edges as if fresh from the fore. I felt both like yesterday and a hundred years ago. He swore he could hear his friends cutting up as they made their way across Copperhead's den, laughing as Shane spun yet another yarn about Dirk Rockbone and his adventures along the native people of the land.

He could almost hear Archie grousing and bossing everybody around, cowboy mused wistfully. He jerked abruptly from this reverie as he realized that was, in fact, exactly what he heard. Y'all wait up a minute, Lord. Some of us have aged in the past 60 years, kid. Cowboy realized he drifted away from the truck. Coming almost to the water's edge, and Cody Blevins had followed in his wake. Archie brought up the rear limping noticeably.

I swear to Christmas, kid, you're trying to kill me. Sorry, Arch. Are you okay? You're limping a bit there. Mind your business, kid. I'm fine. Cody Blevins looked Archie. she up and down and sighed.

No disrespect, Mr. Stalard, but I don't think you're going to be up to all the hiking and climbing we're going to be doing tonight. I've been making my way out in these woods before you ever thought of, boy, don't you tell me. Ain't no shame in getting old, sir. Ain't nothing wrong with being stubborn neither, but you got to have sense. My old man's the same way. He almost learned a hard way.

Last time my dad said he was fine, we were out hunting a thing and been stealing goats or toward hogskin. Tracked it back to its lair, and we thought we had it dead to rights, but daddy's knee gave out as we made our move. If that bugger had been a least bit quicker, we'd have got us both. We got lucky. You think that's what we're up against over there? Buggers and haints and such?

We won't know what we're dealing with till we get there. Might be spooky shit. Might just be regular old folks who like hurting people. I couldn't tell you which ones are. worse, but neither one of them are going to give you a time out if your hip locks up on you. He's got a point, Arch. Listen, we need somebody out here

to go for help if things go wrong. What if Mr. Blevins here gives you his keys and you be our wheelman? How's that sound? I've got a set of walkies in the truck. We can leave one with you and holler if we need you to go get the law. Archie Stalard bit his bottom lip as he molded over.

His hip did hurt like hell. Now it's just from the ride out here. All right, fine. But if y'all get lost out there because I ain't with you, that's on y'all. You hear me? I hear you, Arch. Scotty said you'd know where to meet him. Poked at you about your brother.

You know where he meant? I believe I do, unfortunately. Let's go check on our guests in the back of the truck and get this over with. The three men made their way back up to Cody Blevins as crew cab. The big man regarded his rear bumper for a thoughtful moment and turned to cowboy. We're going to have to help him out of the back of the truck the way I trust him up, so if you'll be ready to help me and Mr. Stalard, sir, if you'd cover them with the shotgun, I'd appreciate it.

Archie nodded solemnly taking the weapon. I imagine they'll be pretty disoriented, so it should be the easy part. Once we're on the move, I'll take the gun. If you don't mind to help them up, they start to trip. Cowboy nodded, and Cody raised his voice to call through the tailgained. All right, y'all. We're going to help you out of there. I don't want no funny business.

I'm gonna open the camper and drop the tailgate. Just slide down on your butts till your legs hang over the edge of the bed and we'll help you up from there. Agreed? No start, no trouble, won't be no trouble. Y'all hear me? There was a muffled...

from Bryce Adams. Crystal Blankenship, as had been her custom thus far, remained silent. Cody put the key in the lock and turned the handle. The instant the latch was clear, The glass panel snapped up hard, clipping the big man in the face. Cody staggered back as Crystal dove through the open space, landing on all fours. She managed to free herself from her bond somehow.

Her wrists were raw and bleeding, and Cowboy had just time to register these details before she was on her feet, lunging for the woods. Instinctively, he made a grab for her. Crystal juked right, and when Cowboy moved to block her, she shifted back left. Archie Stallard froze in the moment. The shotgun forgotten in his hands as the wild-eyed girl screamed like a panther in the night, and charged straight at Cowboy. Her hands outstretched to claw at his face and eyes. Cowboy caught her wrist and there was a brief struggle,

but Crystal Blankenship was country girl strong and broke free, aiming a vicious rabbit punch at his face. Her bony fist found its mark, smashing his bottom lip against his teeth. Cowboy touched his mouth, staring in shock as his fingers came away bloody. His gaze returned to Crystal, his eyes widening with dawning horse.

Orer, Crystal crowed in triumph. Ha! What now? Y'all think you're so big and bad, kidnapping a girl? You surprised when she fights back? Huh? Cowboy didn't have time to explain. He could feel the power inside him rising to answer the threat, reaching down to the darkness of the soil that surrounded Bear Creek Reservoir.

The ground beneath Crystal's feet, brambles that hadn't been there a moment earlier, writhed about her ankles, and the sound of skittering claws and chewing mouths whispered from below. The girl screamed as something that might have been a rat if it possessed fewer eyes and legs scurried across her feet. The earth around her churned as more claws tunneled their way to the surface. Recovering, Cody started toward the girl, but Cowboy cried out.

Cody, no! Don't go near her. Crystal, just nobody move! Cowboy Apshire extended his hand in the direction of the space where the girl stood. He closed his eyes and concentrated. The air around them shifted, growing heavy with the smell of rotting leaves and freshly turned lone, and something as the power pushed back against him. He breathed heavily, exerting his will, pushing it down into the darker. Crystal, when I say go,

Run. Run as far away from me as you can. I know you're going to want to run to your uncle, but don't. I think I've got it under control, but if I ever see you again, I can't promise that you'll be safe. Do you understand me? Crystal Blankenship stood frozen in place, staring down at her feet in horror as the mass of brambles and hungry bones faded back into the ground. She didn't seem to hear him. What the hell was that? It looked like... The shotgun roared.

And Crystal screamed, nearly fallen over in fright. Archie Stalherd had found his trigger finger at last. The man said, run, girl! Now get! Archie racked the pump action once to emphasize his point, and Crystal Blankenship sprinted for the treeline. Cody sighed. You know she's just going to run to her uncle anyway.

Did you honestly think this was going to be an actual exchange of hostages, Mr. Blavent? They don't have any intention of giving Miss Bell back. They just want me to come to them. So let's give them what they want. Easy now, kid. You sure you're okay? What just happened here was an awful lot like back when we were kids. I'm fine, Arch.

I've learned to reel it in when things like that happened. She caught me off guard as all. I'm all right. Cowboy squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again, shaking his head, attempting to clear the hidden world from his field division. Cody turned to Bryce, who had managed to struggle up to a sitting position on the tailgate and was staring off in the direction his girlfriend had fled, looking shell-shocked. Well, hell, I guess it don't make much sense to drag you along with us at this point. You mind keeping an eye on him, Mr. Stallard? Archie nodded.

It's fine. You don't look like he got much fight left in him, no way. Let's get y'all situated in the truck then. We'll set up the walkies and get this show on the road. Cody Blevins popped the driver's side door open and checked Bryce's bonds, ensuring that unlike crystals they would hold and help the young man into the back seat of the cab.

For his part, Bryce was wise enough to keep quiet and do as he was told. Then Cody put the key in the car. the ignition and the CB radio crackled to live. Two years on out there. Cody Blevins snatched up the microphone from the dash and leaned in. We hear you, good shepherd. I believe we're pretty close to where you asked us to go. You want to come on out and see about swapping this missing property?

Over. Neighborhood, but you're going to have to come up on the porch if you want to talk about missing property. Seems like we keep finding yours all over the place. Listen here. See how to your down. boy? Huh?

Well, it's just a goddamn family reunion out here. Miss Fletcher's, I met Calf on her mama's side. All the old blood gathered out here on the water. Drabshire. The radio fell silent. And Cody switched the truck back off. Archie's eyes were wide, simmering with rage as his hands clutched the shotgun. And they got my boy.

They got Kelson. I'm going with y'all. Arch, we talked about that. this. You can't make it all the way up there on foot. You'll fall and get hurt and... And end up like your brother? No, not me. They done fucked up now. You boys go on. I got an idea of my own. Archie, please. I ain't gonna go climbing no rocks or any of that foolishness kid. I'll be there if you need me one way or the other, but y'all get. I'll see you on the other side. And with that, Archie Stalard walked away from the truck, heading in the direction of the boat dock.

quickly vanishing into the surrounding night. Cody produced another shotgun from the back of the truck, and this particular model featured a file-down barrel that Cowboy was pretty sure wasn't legal. Damn it, Arch, let him go. We've got to get a move on. Cowboy glanced across the lake to where the island loomed in the distance. The memories that flitted through his mind helped center him. Before the night of the wolf, this had been a happy place.

a place of trust and secrets kept. This was the place where he and Floyd had truly become brothers and had shared that bond with the others. This was their place. This was his place. And he would be damned if he let Scotty Blankenship or anyone else spoil that. The journey to Death Island seemed much shorter than the cowboy remembered. Granted, he'd been a child the last time he'd been here,

single file across the top of the earth and dam, laughing as Dallas pretended to be. pushed Shane over the edge. As he walked down the wide and well-maintained trail that now led from the dammed and water treatment plant, he remembered being little. He kept close to his big brother, listening in to the low private conversations Floyd and Kurt had had about older boy stuff. Kurt's daddy's death, the girl that seemed to like Floyd and what to do about it. He felt privileged to have witnessed his friends growing up and at the time wondered what it would be like for him when he was older.

Little had he known at the time what a long and complicated journey that would be. Before he knew it, the cliffs of Dirk Rockbone rose before them, or just the Rockbone cliffs, as Shane had called them in his stories. As a child, they had seemed a nigh insurmountable obstacle. These moss-covered sentinels were slippery as all heck to climb if it had been damp at all, and they were high enough for a young man to really get hurt if he should fall. they didn't seem so high now and much like the island wasn't really an island

the cliffs weren't really cliffs they were just some rock formations that crested the hill leading down to the place that Kirk Kilgore had dubbed Death Island Cowboys stared at the ground at the base of the rocks it was here that his brother Floyd had tried to climb the cliffs one last time and failed his sight flickered

and he could see just for a moment. Floyd and Kurt helping his 10-year-old self up the rock face. It seemed some real. At least as real as any vision of a decaying future his strange, cursed sight had ever shown him. He allowed himself just a moment to savor it. Then blinked and shook his head and the ghost of his past. You all right, Mr. Absher?

Oh, yeah. This was just for Floyd. Oh, I don't mean to rush you, but no you're right let's keep moving so up and over the cliffs they went back down and around to the final approach to the island once they cleared the rocks and the short swampy patch of trail beyond them there was a steeply dropping passage that could only be taken by one boy at a time it was only a handful of rapid steps but if the lake was up there was water to either side filled with god knew what and the island itself lay ahead.

When Cowboy and Cody reached this final passage, they paused. Cowboy had opened his mouth to explain how to approach this next part when two things happened. First, it occurred to him that Cody Blevins had grown up in Baker's Gap and was no stranger to the island. Second, he saw Floyd and Shane. Each of them may be 14 years old. coaxed a younger version of himself down the slope. He could not hear them, but he remembered that day well. He had taken his first steps onto the narrow path when Floyd gave him a little push,

and he slid faster than he never moved in his life toward Shane Shepard, waiting at the base of the steep hill. In the vision before him, Shane caught him just before he teetered over into the stagnant muck on the right-hand side of the trail. They all laughed and cheered, and cowboy watched as Shane pulled his younger self, to a tight bear hug. He smiled fondly at the memory. Then a third thing happened

that Cowboy could not have foreseen. Shane looked up at him. Cowboy started in surprise. And Cody Blevins put his hand on his shoulder. Easy there, old timer. You remember how to get down? When Cowboy turned back, the path was dark and empty. Water from the lake glistening on its slick surface.

I was wondering if you knew your way around out here. Cody Blevins just chuckled. It's smaller when it used to be. South End got washed out when they changed the dam back in 75 or so, but, uh, yep, this was the best spot to sneak a few cold ones when I was in high school. Of course, uh, there's all kinds of other stories about this place if you know who to ask. Without another word, Cowboy set his feet to the scurrying measured steps required to make it safely down the passage, and on to Death Island.

Before he can even take a breath of that turpentine and dead trout-scented air, a great battle unfolded before his eyes. He and his friends were locked in a great sword fight. The knights of the hillbilly roundtable engaged in great deeds of valor. He knew this day. This had been about an hour before he died. He watched a shame called for a halt and everybody looked around, though the action unfolded silently before him,

Cowboy knew Kurt had just pointed out that it was getting dark. It was time to put their swords away and head home. Tears pricked in the corner of his eyes as his younger self handed a short little homemade sword to shame, who would hide them all in the hollowed-out tree trunk they had called the Armory. All too soon, Kurt would notice the shadow, and everything would change forever. Cowboy stepped forward as if he could stop the scene from proceeding, watching as all the boys turned to look at what Kurt was pointing at, except for Shane.

Instead of following the others, Shane turned to look right at Cowboy. He held up a hand and gave the sign the boys used when they were about to ambush the enemy or do anything that might get them in trouble if they were caught. A closed fist pulled down the signal for be ready. As quickly as the vision had appeared, it was gone. and Cowboy saw the island as it was now. It was no longer the wondrous safe haven of his childhood. It was smoky and musty,

save for the sickly smolder of a campfire that burned somewhere deep within the stand of pines. They'd taken a few steps into the grove. Cody at the ready with his shotgun, cowboy fighting to keep his vision clear of lines of power and visions of the dead when a voice unfurled from the darkness like a snake from a treelium. That's far enough, bear.

Cody Blevins' former football teammate stepped from the shadows, a 38 snub nose in his hand. He was wearing an unbuttoned flannel shirt that hung a size or two too big on his lean frame. A tall, rough-looking man in camo and workboot stood at Scott's shoulder, his own shotgun trained on Cody. Put the gun down and walk away, Cody. This don't concern you. This here's between me and your new friend.

You made it my concern when you and your little band a trick-or-treaters kidnap Miss Bell, Scotty. Scotty shrugged. Miss Calloway's just fine. Victor here will take you right to her, won't you, Victor? The man with a shotgun grunted. Do as he says, Cody. I'm sure we can work this out.

Scotty grinned and gestured at Cowboy with the revolver. See, Bear? The abomination here can be reasonable. Why can't you? Scotty Blanketship held out his hand and begrudgingly Cody Blevins handed over his weapon. Woo, this is a nice piece, bear. Your daddy does a real fine job filing he's down, don't he? Come now. March. Scotty and his man, Victor, walked behind Cody and Cowboy, hurting them around the next bend and into the clearing that had stood at the heart of Cowboys' What lay before them now, however, was no place for children to play. It was a landscape dredged from the bowels of the deepest and darkest hell.

A bonfire smoldered in a low pit at the center of the clearing, casting a greasy orange glow over those in attendance, both living and dead. In a rough circle around the fire, several corpses in various stages of decay and dismemberment had been placed at even intervals. As they stepped into the light, a woman's body was being lowered into a shallow grave. In the dim light, Cowboy could see that her throat had been slashed and her hands were missing.

She wore a bloodied sweatshirt that read, Asked me about my German Shepherd, in gold letters across the bright blue fabric gone dark with gore. Two more men carried a rotund older man dressed in head-toe denim. The sleeves of his jacket were covered in various novelty patches featuring off-color jokes. The one on his chest read, inexplicably, the hog is feral. His beard and mouth were matted with blood and fragments of broken teeth.

He bore a single small-caliber gunshot wound to the temple, which must have come as a mercy after what he'd endured before it. Cody Blevins cursed and spat The dog lady Really, Scotty And what the hell that old possum ever do to you? You lost your damn mind, son Oh, bear, I was lost

But now I'm found Come on boys, let's join the others They made their way deeper into the pines Or a dozen or so men and women milled about Attended to the odds and ends Of what was clearly some sort of ritual bones of both animals and people had been arranged in careful patterns and constructs. Some hung like mobiles over a crib from the lower branches of the ancient trees.

Each pile was ringed with a white powdery substance that connected it with its neighbor and lines so disconcertingly straight, cowboy figure they must have been drawn with the aid of a yardstick. At their center was a second blow-burned fire, and there on either side, of it were Belle Callaway and Kelson Stalard. Both had been bound. Miss Bell sitting slumped but upright, looking uncomfortable, while Kelson lay unconscious on his side snoring. What are you hoping to achieve here, Scotty? You didn't kill the bunch of people. Her own niece is out here running around barefoot and scared death in the woods because of you. Hell, her boyfriend is definitely going to tell the law everything he knows, so what in the devil's fiery asshole could be

worth all this. Scotty Blankenship chuckled. I'm glad you asked, Barry, I really am. See, there are those of us who have been abused and beaten down by then that has money, power, position, and privilege, those of us with grievances against the world that we had no way to seek remedy for. There are those of us against whom the deck has always been stacked. Hell, you could argue the old Appalachia fits that bill.

In my mamma's younger days, our people prayed, and they prayed for deliverance. They prayed until their sweat fell like great drops of blood. And lo! Lo, an angel come unto them. An angel without wings, with no harp nor singing choir, but an angel all the same. An angel that spared the righteous and laid low the wicked. A loving mother who carried a babe in her arms and showed us her love by setting right the wrongs that had befallen those who loved her. You're wrong, son.

you're so wrong honestly it hurts my heart silence you apostate if you are who we think you are then you have borne her blessing for generations and have done nothing with it if you are as our prophecies indicate her

chosen son then you are a traitor to this faith and today you will meet your reckoning and once you do Oh, I will ascend to be her good son And carry out her will all across the world The blood of wolves and lambs alike have been spilled. The old blood and the new will soak this place

And that which dwells in you Will abandon your heretic bones And come to rest in my prepared vessel. Scotty tore off his flannel shirt with a dramatic flourish, revealing the wrist chest had been long rivulets where strips of his skin had been cut and stretched like belt loops from shoulder to shoulder. Through those freshly opened wounds had been woven strips of thorny briars and fragments of bone. Illegible symbols were painted over his belly with a dried and rusty icker whose source was,

better left unimagined. Dark mud had been spread all over his forearm so it appeared as though he himself might have crawled. from the grave. Cody Blevins could hold his tongue no longer. Scotty, what are you done to yourself? Have you lost your goddamn mind? You have no idea what sort of things you might be playing with out here. Revealing his self-mutilation seemed to sever the final tether,

holding Scotty Blankenship's facade of sanity together. His eyes grew wide and wet, and he waved the 38 in Cody's general direction. Oh, I know exactly who I'm playing with, as you call it, Bear. I know exactly what I'm doing, and I'll be happy to add some Blevins blood to the mix. If you don't shut your ignorant he's in mouth! Now, calm down, good shepherd. Nobody needs to get shot. Scotty took a deep breath, releasing it slowly.

His hand steadied. His voice was calm when he spoke again. Well, that's a matter of opinion, ain't it, son? Then he turned to Cowboy, pulled back the hammer of his revolver, and pulled the trigger. The shot echoed across the lake. And the world seemed to freeze for a long moment. And then for the second time in his life, Cowboy Absher fell to the soft pine floor of Death Island. Screamed.

Cody lunged forward, trying to reach his side, but two of the bigger men and Scotty's entourage tackled him to the ground. No! Oh, Scotty, you poor stupid boy, what have you done? There was a thrum and the whole island shook beneath their feet. The night seemed to deepen around them, the firelight growing dim and the shadows darkening as a foul wind began to blow from... I've done what I was born to do, Belle Calloway! I've slain the impostor and would now receive her blessing.

Watch, you watch now. With the shedding of his blood, the lines that connect our offerings will burn with black fire, and the piece of our mother hidden inside him will... The earth, the bones hanging in the trees, rattling like wind shines, and the wind itself picked up. And a sound like thunder. The noxious breeze scattered the ash and lime that Scottie's followers had used to mark the ground. No blackfire sprung up from their scratchings.

and the offerings that Scotty and his followers had strewn about the island lay still. Somewhere a tree cracked and fell. It's echoing crash like mocking laughter, a suffocating absence of sound that hung oppressively over the island. Scotty looked around as that his followers waiting for a sign, watching for some indication that all their dark and bloody work had not been for nothing, and they turned their eyes to the man their leader had shot, who lay still on the ground, no one daring to breathe.

Then cowboy ab sure sat bold. He made no sound. He turned his head this way and that, taking the crowd that had gathered around him, then rose carefully to his feet. At first, aside from the bloody hole, marrowing his formerly neat white dress shirt, there was no sign cowboy had done anything more unusual

than choose an odd spot for a nap. Not until they got a look at his eyes. The bright blue orbs had gone on a natural black, and what looked out from behind them was not. As he rose to his feet, it became more clear that something was very, very wrong. Whatever looked out from behind cowboy's eyes moved as if it wasn't used to wearing a human body. It stared down at cowboy's hands, flexing the fingers experienced. Experimentally, Cowboys' head cocked to one side curiously.

What have we here? Cowboy? Cowboy, honey? Are you all right? The one you call Cowboy is unavailable at the moment, and ones who seek to harm him end up speaking with me in the end. This is the first time I've had the run of the store, so to speak. I rather like it. Your cowboy will be back, fear not.

I suppose you should fear. You very afraid. Scotty Blankenship threw himself at cowboy's feet, his arms wide, his chest bleeding openly, joy washing over him like the rapture. sure had come. Oh, spirit of our mother, hear me, I am your true vessel, your good and faithful son, leave the prison of that ungrateful heathens wretched form and cleave to my flesh. We will do great works together. Let what has been planted in the dark earth bloom at dawn.

The thing that was not cowboy, scowled at Scotty Blankenship, clearly unimpressed. by the shirtless bleeding man. What would you have of me? Abandoned the post I was set to guard. You foolish, you think we are cattle to be traded. But we have followed the teachings. We have obeyed the law, sit down in the good mother's name. We have spilled blood.

So much blood. Please, please. This is what is right. Come unto me, if my mother. memo foretold and let us be as one. Prince, you conducted your sad little meaningless rights to honor us. You shed blood in our name, soiled your hands in the hopes of redemption. You want us to raise the dead and set things right.

Well, then, little eight. Let us see what we can do." The thing wearing cowboy abshure turned and sauntered back through the pines, to the spot where Maureen Fletcher, the dog lady, to the thoughtless and unkind, and possum had been haphazardly interred. It gazed down at the fresh grave, reaching up to touch the rapidly closing wound in the center of cowboy's chest. held his bloody hand out over the grave, allowing two drops of blood to fall on the shared

resting place of Scotty's unfortunate victims, and then something that was neither the dog lady nor old. What climbed out of that unworthy grave was not the risen forms of two innocents who had been sacrificed, but a hulking beast, with two exposed spinal columns twisted around each other like some mockery of a caduceus. Its bloated arms and legs consisted of petrified roots And the rich black loam that had filled their grave Its face was a twisted amalgamation of Maureen Fletcher

In the mall of some massive hound That probably hadn't walked these hills Since the Appalachian stretched as high as the rockies Four eyes stared out of clumps of dirt Rained from its massive form As it shook itself in a distinctly canine gesture And let loose a blood-chilling. The ground at its feet began to seethe and buckle in, heralding the arrival of a dozen such patril,

each more horrific and strange than the last. They ranged in size from a towering bull-mastiff-like thing complete with a crown of horns to a pack of tiny rat dogs with toenails like kitchen knives. Each gave an answering howl as it clawed its way from the earth, and then as one. They set upon the congregation of Scotty Blankenship's followers Like a pack of coyotes on a warrant of rabbits The thing that was not cowboy turned back to Scotty Who had worshiply followed in its way

It cupped his face Almost gently in one hand And turned his head to face the slaughter Scotty tried to wrench his gaze away But the thing held him back There were no survivors As the screams gave way to whimpers and the whimpers faded to silence.

One mile, returning to their disparate part. The thing made of Old Possum and Maureen Fletcher slumped back to their burial plot, collapsing into a heap of bone and blood and shredded organs and Scotty Blank. Were to forsake my given purpose, why would I trade one unguisted meat cage

for another? The flat black eyes that gazed out of Cowboy Absher's handsome face Bored into Scotty Blankenship as it raised a hand. The vines of thorns woven into Scotty's flesh began to writhe and response pulling the terrified man first onto his tiptoes and then into the air. His back arched as he hung suspended by his own tearing and bleeding chest. And then the brambles turned inward on the leader of the congregation of Peter's Brants, punching through his rib cage and lungs like a hunt-knife through the sidewall of a deflating tie.

The vines burrowed into his flesh, nodding around one another, and then they began to move, forming a conveyor belt of gore and thorns that tore up and around in and out through Scotty Blankenship's body like some hellish roller coaster. His screams echoed across the clearing, louder than any that had come before, they seemed to go. on for an eternity until Belle Calloway had to turn away. She could hear Cody Blevins wretching quietly in the grass. Whatever was riding, Cowboy raised a hand and the motion stopped. It took a long moment to admire its handiwork and then raised Cowboys index finger, waving it in the air like a conductor with a baton. And those dead, lightless eyes met Scotty's one final time.

There's not a scrap of power in you, or any of these pathetic little sycophates. No use, voice. Please, I just wanted to... There was a sound of rending flesh and a mist of dark blood as the rope of thorns began to twist again. Faster and faster. Too fast for the naked eye to even follow and tore Scotty Blankenship. The thing that was an aunt cowboy gave a contented sigh and steepled the young man's fingers together as it turned back to the guttering campfire and the retired school teacher who sat bound in its fading glow.

Bill Calloway edged away as it crouched down to meet her eyes. But you, Sarah Averne Bryant. before us you always have we have been looking for you for a very long time you you stay away from me you bitch cowboy cowboy are you in there please can you hear me within the darkness of his own body cowboy hapshers stirred. How long had he been gone this time? He could feel his body had almost finished healing. There was a dull ache in his chest that he moved to rub it, to soothe it, but his hands would not obey. He tried to look down but saw nothing but murky darkness. With an effort he tried to

open his eyes and slowly, begrudgingly his vision returned. He saw Miss Bill. On the ground before him, she was all right, but why did she look so scared? She was apparently unharmed. Then the dark thing, the thing that she had planted in him with a kiss when he was just a child. It was all right. He was waking up. He was healed. The pain should bring him back into his body, but something was wrong.

He could see his own hands reaching for Miss Bell, but not by his own will. Cowboy felt its intent and his blood run cold, it might not be willing to move to an unguicted host. But one with the potential power of the Walker bloodline? No. No, that could not be allowed to happen. He strained, but nothing happened. He screamed, but there was only silence. He was lost, lost in the dark all alone. He felt panic rising within him, and then voice came from his left. Fear not, young adventurer. For you are not alone. Stand fast and all will be well.

Cowboy thought he must be losing his mind. It was Shane, or Shane's voice at any rate, in the grand theatrical cadence he used when telling his stories. Then, and as more usual, don't know when it came again. Just a little bit longer, buddy. We're coming. One by one they came. Kirk Kilgore, followed by Dallas Shepherd.

and then his brother Floyd. None of them spoke except shame. A cowboy could feel their presence beside him in the darkness, pushing that alien power away, Linden Cowboy their strength as he strained to regain command of his body. Damn it, Dallas! I think all of us have to be here for this to work. The shade of Dallas Shepherd nodded and held up one finger as if asking for patience. A moment later, the buzzing of an outboard motor came from just off the left of his field of

vision, the whirring of the engine died. And there was a soft thunk of a boat coming to rest on the shore and feet splashing through the shallows. Kid? Hey, kid! Where are you? The real, Archie, limped through the weeds and into view. His eyes widened and his mouth fell slack as he took in the destruction and horror that had been visited upon the place. And then he saw his friends, as they were in their prime and also as they had been when they died. Cowboys saw them all as the young boys he remembered from their childhood, but Archie had known each of them all the way to their respective ends. It was also clear to him that cowboy was not right,

and there was some purpose in their gathering, and though he did not fully understand it, he moved to stand with them, stiff hip be damned. He heard Shane's voice call out, Now, Dallas, now! And the memory or ghost or whatever it was of Shane's cousin whistled hard through his fingers. And cowboy heard the skittering of claws and the running jingling of dog tags as a familiar spectral shape blew past Archie Stallard nearly bowling him over. Shane laughed.

I love it when he does that. Sam? Hey, boy. We're all here now. Come on, kid. Cowboy pushed at the thing whose powers surrounded him And felt the combined will of his friends His family and this place surge into him

Adding their strength to his The thing that had been riding his body Scream Stay away from her You hear me I said get back The ground shook And that thunderous boom

Sounded across the island once more The boys of Death Island standing together one last time poured everything they had into their youngest companion and in doing so vanished. Into the East Tennessee nod like a sweet summer wind. The sound of sand's booming baroos carrying them on to wherever came next for them. All except Archie who spotted his son on the ground near the fire and rushed to his side. Kelson was beginning to stir and Archie spoke soothingly to him. him pulling out his trusty pocket knife to saw at the nylon rope that bound him. Cody Blevins, no longer restrained by the two members of Scotty's cult, had hastened to

Miss Bell's side and began working to free her as well. Bell breathed a sigh of relief as she felt the presence of whatever had been driving her former student received. Cowboy, I'm sure, for his part, lost his balance and fell to the ground beside her. Cowboy, honey? Are you okay? Are you with us? There was a long silence as Cowboy remembered how to breathe.

He looked up at her with clear, sparkling blue eyes. I'm right here, Miss Bell. The woman who was once Sarah Avery pulled Cowboy into a tight hug and whispered. Come on now, Sugar. Let's get out of here. Well, hey there, family. So, uh, how did that hit you? Y'all all right.

if you ain't you will be it has been an absolute joy to come back to Baker's Gap and Death Island to see our boys at the end of their respective roads and I appreciate y'all coming with me now this does close out the first arc of season five of Old Gods of Appalachia run like hell now this season remember is a true anthology

and will feature standalone stories that will roll through both familiar and unfamiliar places so now we're going to take a little bit of break and come back to you with a whole new story from your beloved Hedge Witch and Mistress of the Dark, Cam Collins. So to be clear and explicit, the second arc of season five will begin on Thursday, March 6th, 2025. If you want that a day early, you can make sure that you've joined us in our paid subscription service, The Holler. There are hours and hours of exclusive storylines to fill that extra week of waiting before we come back with a whole new tale.

Just head on over to old gods of Appalachia.com slash The Holler to move on in. And this is your, did you really think we weren't going to bring Sam into it? Reminder that Old Gods of Appalachia is a production of deep nerd media distributed by Rusty Quill. Our theme song is by Brother Landin' Blood, and our outro music is by those poor bastards. Today's story was written by Steve Shell and Cam Collins. The voice of Kelson Stoward is Kelson Stoward,

and the voice of Cowboy Absher is Brandon Bentley. Talk to you soon, specifically on March 6th, 2025, family. Talk to you real soon.