John caught up with him where the forestry commission track ended - Eliot's jeep with John's journal discarded on the front seat parked up by the edge of the trail. Eliot wasn't far beyond that. Neither was the wendigo.
There was nothing superhuman about Eliot, only a bigger dose of rage than most people carried around with them. Still, he wasn't dead yet, and for a man armed only with rage and a flaming torch, that was pretty fucking impressive.
John took advantage of its momentary distraction as Eliot lunged at its chest, to throw a fuel-drenched blanket over the damn thing's head and light it. Eliot stayed with it as it fell, both of them screaming, and got his hands around the thing's neck, silencing it with a brutal crack. As the creature started to burn, Eliot backed slowly away and hit a tree, sliding to the ground.
The smile he gave John made him itch for his gun.
"I am an evil man, John." he said slowly. "You should know that."
John came aware of the blood on Eliot suddenly, claw marks in his upper arm and side, loose shirt hiding the damage.
"She was just a girl." Eliot stood all-at-once and punched the tree he'd been leaning against. "What kind of FUCK does that to…"
John edged closer as Eliot trailed off, feeling no more safe than he had when faced with the wendigo.
"It was a payment, it wasn't like I…" Eliot choked on a sob, raw and hoarse. "Just because… I never wanted to be the bad guy."
"We'll get her back, Eliot. Screw the payment. You and I, we'll get her back from there." John didn't know where there was, of even if 'she' was still alive, but that was what you said to a person you cared for who was bleeding out physically and emotionally while you watched. 'I'm here, and I can make it better'. Even if it wasn't true.
"What if you have to kill me one day, John?" Eliot's voice was faint now, too much blood lost to keep him upright as he sank back to the ground. "I've killed more people, destroyed more fucking lives than half your so-called monsters."
"You never wanted to be the bad guy, Eliot." John reminded him of his own words. "One day you'll find yourself some place you don't have to be."
John waited for Eliot's head to slump and lifted him awkwardly to carry him to the car. He'd have to come back once he'd stitched him up, and clear up the wendigo corpse so close to the road, but it sounded like they had plans to make, and a kid to save.
Tiredly, John prayed to whoever was listening that Eliot found a way out of this life. He didn't want to shoot the kid, he kinda liked him.
2/2
There was nothing superhuman about Eliot, only a bigger dose of rage than most people carried around with them. Still, he wasn't dead yet, and for a man armed only with rage and a flaming torch, that was pretty fucking impressive.
John took advantage of its momentary distraction as Eliot lunged at its chest, to throw a fuel-drenched blanket over the damn thing's head and light it. Eliot stayed with it as it fell, both of them screaming, and got his hands around the thing's neck, silencing it with a brutal crack. As the creature started to burn, Eliot backed slowly away and hit a tree, sliding to the ground.
The smile he gave John made him itch for his gun.
"I am an evil man, John." he said slowly. "You should know that."
John came aware of the blood on Eliot suddenly, claw marks in his upper arm and side, loose shirt hiding the damage.
"She was just a girl." Eliot stood all-at-once and punched the tree he'd been leaning against. "What kind of FUCK does that to…"
John edged closer as Eliot trailed off, feeling no more safe than he had when faced with the wendigo.
"It was a payment, it wasn't like I…" Eliot choked on a sob, raw and hoarse. "Just because… I never wanted to be the bad guy."
"We'll get her back, Eliot. Screw the payment. You and I, we'll get her back from there." John didn't know where there was, of even if 'she' was still alive, but that was what you said to a person you cared for who was bleeding out physically and emotionally while you watched. 'I'm here, and I can make it better'. Even if it wasn't true.
"What if you have to kill me one day, John?" Eliot's voice was faint now, too much blood lost to keep him upright as he sank back to the ground. "I've killed more people, destroyed more fucking lives than half your so-called monsters."
"You never wanted to be the bad guy, Eliot." John reminded him of his own words. "One day you'll find yourself some place you don't have to be."
John waited for Eliot's head to slump and lifted him awkwardly to carry him to the car. He'd have to come back once he'd stitched him up, and clear up the wendigo corpse so close to the road, but it sounded like they had plans to make, and a kid to save.
Tiredly, John prayed to whoever was listening that Eliot found a way out of this life. He didn't want to shoot the kid, he kinda liked him.