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  “Terry, whatever is the matter?” Blair was shocked to see him like that. He never ran anywhere, and her first reaction was that it must be a bear. “Is it..?”

  Terry’s eyes were wild with fear, and he was clearly struggling for breath. Blair stood her ground and when he reached her he collapsed in her arms, a sweaty hot mess. He was mumbling about being chased, that they had to leave, but he was shaking so much that Blair began to wonder if he hadn’t lost his mind. She held him to her, more worried than even when the doctor had sat them down last year and told them it was cancer.

  “Terry, talk to me, honey.” She wiped hair from his forehead and as he regained his breath, she felt the thumping noises start up again. “What the hell is happening?”

  “We have to...leave now. No time...quickly.” Terry shot a fearful look over his shoulder. “It’s coming.”

  Blair felt him pull away from her and she began to panic. “Terry, what is? A bear? Jesus, I knew we shouldn’t have camped here. Come help me get the tent, and—”

  Terry began to walk away from her, to the forest. He stood there looking ridiculous in his pajamas, facing the trees.

  “Now what? I thought you said—”

  “There’s no time,” said Terry quietly. “It’s here. I can see it.”

  Blair peered at the trees but could see nothing. “Listen to me, Terry, you’ve had a fright. Whatever you saw is—”

  “Go!” Terry shouted at her. “I’ll try and ward it off. Go, now and forget the tent. Run, Blair. Just run and—”

  What came running then out of the forest made Blair freeze. Her husband hadn’t raised his voice at her in twenty years, and her momentary shock at his outburst was instantly forgotten. It came fast, snatching Terry up in its jaws in a second. The thing was just a blur, running with speed that belied its size. Terry screamed once and then he was gone. The early sun came over into the clearing in small splinters, brightening up the trees and illuminating Terry’s limp body that hung in the creature’s jaws.

  “Terry,” she whispered. Blair took a step back, scarcely able to believe what she was seeing. She was wrong. It wasn’t a bear. “I can’t...I can’t—”

  With a quick flip of its head, the creature tossed Terry around and snapped him in half. His head and torso disappeared down the monster’s throat as his legs fell to the floor with a bloody splat.

  Blair covered her mouth with a hand, stifling a scream. She turned her back on the monster, and took another step back to the tent. This was a dream. She was still asleep in the tent, unable to wake from an absurd nightmare. And yet, she knew this was horribly real. This was no dream. Blair took another step, praying she would wake up, refusing to listen to the sound of her husband being devoured behind her. The tent was up ahead and somewhere inside was her husband’s gun. At night she knew he tucked it into one of his walking boots. If she could just reach it she could scare it off. She’d shoot it if she had to. Picturing how she was going to do it, working out if she had enough time to get to the tent before the abomination spotted her too, she heard more scuffling noises and then three distinct thumping noises. She realized then what the noises were. The creature. It had been chasing Terry through the trees. Now that it was through with him, it would either return to wherever it had come from, or—

  Blair turned around slowly. It took two steps in her direction and lowered its head. Blood was smeared around its elongated jaws, dripping from its rows of sharp teeth. It not only had seen her, but could smell her. She knew she was next and didn’t wait to be attacked. Blair ran.

  Sprinting to the tent, she didn’t even register the cuts on her bare feet. The thumping noises started again and she kept her eyes focused solely on the tent. When she arrived at the flaps she threw herself inside and landed on the sleeping bags. Frantically, she began to rummage around for Terry’s boots. She found them buried under a neatly folded pile of clothes. She tipped them up and a small handgun fell out of his left boot. Her hands were shaking as much as the ground, and she whirled around to face the tent opening just as the thing outside reached her. Blair screwed up her face and closed her eyes as she squeezed the trigger. She fired four times, waiting to be taken like Terry, but nothing happened. Opening her eyes slowly, Blair lowered the gun. The tent flaps hung loosely, and fresh bullet holes had ruined the tent from being used again. Blair inched forward and listened. There was no sound of it. With her heart racing, Blair crawled to the opening and pulled back one flap.

  She felt teeth suddenly clamp around her arm and she was dragged out of the tent quickly. She dropped the gun and screamed. It felt like her arm was being pulled from its socket and warm blood was soaking into her top. As soon as she had been taken she was released, and Blair found herself scuttling across the ground.

  “What the hell?” She looked up to see the creature trampling over the tent, destroying it as if looking for something. Blinding pain shot up her arm, and Blair got to her feet. No sooner had she stood up than the creature was facing her again, hot breath coming out of its open jaws. “No, no, this isn’t—”

  The monster charged her down, and the last Blair saw of the world was a pure blue sky accompanied by a row of teeth. The last thing she felt was a mouthful of razor sharp teeth piercing her flesh. And the last thing she remembered was her husband telling her he loved her when the doctor gave him the all clear.

  CHAPTER 2

  Zooey winked at the waiter as he put down their tray of drinks. She grabbed her bourbon and looked at Taylor with a glint in her eye. It wasn’t just the liquor giving her a buzz this morning. She was ready to start her vacation. Scratch that – ready to start THE vacation. She’d been ready for a long time and today was officially day one: the beginning of freedom. They’d been saving up for months and now they had two whole weeks to party. She had missed out last year and was still irritated about it. Her boss wouldn’t give her the time off and she had stupidly agreed to work. Never again. Now they were all together, all in a good place, and all with a drink in their hands. Zooey felt like she was bursting with happiness: no responsibilities and no sucky job to go back to, just two weeks of fun with her best friends. Real life was on hold. Paying rent and earning enough to get a flight back home was the last thing on her mind. The bourbon was good, smooth, and she relished it. She doubted anything she drank in the next two weeks would taste as good as that first drink.

  “Oh, that’s good. That is real good,” she said. Zooey licked her lips.

  “You know what else is good?” Taylor looked at her friend and then leant around the corner of the booth to watch the waiter walking away. “That guy’s ass.”

  Zooey knocked back her drink. “We’re not here to pick up guys, Taylor.”

  Despite the tourists in town, they were at the only table currently taken. An old man had placed himself at the far end of the bar, no doubt filling in time before the grim reaper caught up with him, but otherwise they had the place – and the waiter – to themselves. Zooey had found them a booth near the door from where they could see the whole place. The bar was dark, almost dingy, yet the open windows made the place feel quite airy. Flags hung across the roof above the bar and cowboy paraphernalia hung on every wall. She noticed black and white pictures of Johnny Cash and even an old stringless guitar next to the door to the washrooms. She had no doubt that the place would gradually fill up, and by closing it would be packed from wall to wall. In the early hours of the morning there would be people vomiting out back in the parking lot, and then at ten a.m. tomorrow it would start all over again. Above the booth that they had settled in, there was a poster advertising a local band playing that night.

  “All the country hits you know and love.” Zooey read a list of names. “Dolly Parton, Brad Paisley, George Strait...we’ll see.” As much as she got the whole country vibe, she felt that a lot of that old school music was strictly for old-timers. They would undoubtedly check the band out, but she preferred more modern stuff. She had heard about a new bar that had opened up in th
e last year that she wanted to check out later. They had a lot of time in Calgary and would probably visit several bars before their time was up. There was always a band on somewhere.

  “George Strait?” Taylor pulled a face. “Music like that is for old people or dead people. How about some Hunter Hayes? Or Chris Young? Or even Colt Ford. Now that would be a concert worth going to.”

  Zooey shrugged, wondering why Taylor was so snappy. There was something about her demeanor that had been a little off lately. “Be patient. This is only day one, remember?”

  Zooey felt excited just being in the place, even if it was quieter than a nunnery. She felt at home here. She loved Calgary, loved the Stampede, loved everything about it; thoughts of returning home to Spokane sometimes snuck up on her, but that meant work, reality, and parents, all of which she chose to ignore. This was her time, her place; this was exactly where she wanted to be.

  “To day one!” Taylor chinked glasses with Zooey and leant across the sticky wooden table. She knocked her glass against Aaron’s. “Cheer up, Aaron, it might never happen.”

  “Aaron Fetchman is perfectly happy, thank you.”

  “So put a smile on it.” Zooey picked up her second drink of the day, taking a sip of the light beer, the popping bubbles fizzing across her tongue. It was the taste of freedom. “Don’t be a buzzkill.”

  “Sorry, I was just thinking about what Taylor said.”

  “I told you,” replied Taylor, “George Strait is strictly for old farts.”

  “Hm? No, I was thinking about that waiter’s ass. You’re right. It is good. Aaron Fetchman is impressed.”

  Zooey and Taylor burst out laughing. Aaron was a friend from school, pale and bespectacled, dressed in pale jeans and a lumberjack shirt. He could almost pass for a cowboy, except he was more akin to playing dungeons and dragons, than playing the field. He had come out when he’d turned sixteen, to the shock of absolutely no one. He, Taylor and Zooey had gone through Durango High together and somehow come out friends at the end. Even now, with their lives all at different stages, they remained friends.

  “Gross. Shut it Aaron.” Taylor punched Aaron on the arm. “And stop talking about yourself in the third person, you freak. You sound like a psychopath.”

  “Aaron Fetchman will talk about himself however he damn well wants to, woman.” He lifted his beer and chinked glasses with Taylor, laughing. “And look at any guy’s ass that he wants to.”

  Zooey shook her head. “You’re filthy, Aaron. Besides, you are not gonna get any action here. Remember how you struck out last time? Everyone knows there are no gay cowboys.”

  “Oh, don’t go there,” said Aaron. “Trust me, there are plenty of gay cowboys. You want proof?” Aaron reached into his pocket for his cell. The plastic casing had a pithy quote about wizards and warlocks in shiny pink letters, and Aaron scrolled to his photos. “There was this big dude from Kelowna last year that—”

  “Save it!” Zooey batted Aaron’s cell away and turned up her nose. “I do not want to know.”

  “Yeah, put it back in your pocket,” said Taylor. “Keep it in your pants Aaron. Like Zooey said, we’re here for the Stampede, not to hook up.”

  Aaron sighed and put his cell away. “Fine, fine, but if you get some, then I get some. Both of you. I saw you looking at that waiter, Taylor, the one with the nice ass. I noticed it too. Trust me, if you don’t screw that guy into the middle of next week then I will. Then we’ll see how nice his ass is.”

  Zooey choked on her beer and wiped her mouth on her sleeve. “Okay, let’s change the subject you two. Seriously, this is a family place, don’t you know?”

  They all giggled. Zooey suspected the last time a child had set foot in this bar had been around the same time Nixon had been convincing everyone he was just a nice guy.

  “So what’s up first, captain?” asked Taylor. “I mean, after we’ve ordered another round, of course, then what? What time’s the first rodeo?”

  “A while away yet. We should get down to the stadium and—”

  A policeman in full regalia entered the bar and looked around. He caught Zooey’s eye and smiled, before heading straight to the bar. He wore a scarlet tunic, blue breeches and riding boots, looking as if he would be more at home in a pageant than patrolling the streets of Calgary. Taking off his hat, Zooey noticed he was striking. The rugged, handsome type, a strong jawline and piercing blue eyes. She watched him lean over the bar and talk to the barman, his hat tucked neatly under his arm.

  “Well?” Taylor poked a finger into Zooey’s arm. “We get down to the stadium and then what? You always have it all planned out. Don’t tell me that you don’t know.”

  “Of course I know. There’s a barbecue I thought we could swing by on the way. I heard there was a bluegrass band playing. It’s worth a look. We’ve plenty of time before—” Zooey tailed off, distracted by the policeman. He had finished talking to the barman and was walking across to their table.

  “How you folks all doing?” he asked, his blue eyes never leaving Zooey’s.

  “Peachy.” Taylor smiled sweetly, suddenly aware of the handsome policeman stood at her table.

  “Arron’s fine, thanks,” said Aaron, “and I have ID, if that’s what you’re worried about, sir.”

  “We’re great,” muttered Zooey. Her heart was beginning to beat a little faster, and she was aware that she hardly looked her best. She was dressed for drinking and partying, not meeting handsome strangers. Her blue check shirt was creased and she had next to no make-up on. “Just great.”

  “I’m officer Mahoney. Just doing the rounds, making sure everyone is happy.” He glanced at Aaron. “And over twenty one?”

  Aaron rolled his eyes and produced his ID. “It’s my baby face, I know.”

  “You here for the Stampede?” asked the officer, as two men wandered into the bar from outside and ordered beers.

  “Us and a zillion other people, right?” Taylor nudged Zooey and then splayed her arms out, wrists face up. “I hope everything is okay? Or are you here to arrest us?” she giggled.

  Mahoney smiled politely, his eyes never straying far from Zooey’s. “Not yet. No law against having a good time. With the meteor’s hitting last night, some people are a little spooked, of course. I just want to reassure you that—”

  “Meteors? I didn’t hear about that.” Aaron whipped out his phone again. “Close by?”

  “Sure. Near the Athabasca Glacier, and we think up in Jasper National Park. It’s pretty remote up there, so we don’t know many details, but we got a lot of reports last night of strange lights in the sky. If you saw anything then I just want to put your mind at ease. There’s nothing to worry about. Just a few space rocks giving us a cool light show.”

  “For real?” Zooey frowned. “I didn’t see anything at all.”

  “Probably because you were wasted,” muttered Taylor.

  “Shut it,” hissed Zooey. She inched her way across the leather seat to the edge of the booth. “So, Officer Mahoney, what’s the deal with the outfit? You’re a Mountie, right? I thought you guys wore regular uniforms. Where’s your horse?”

  “He’s taking a well-earned nap. We don’t ride horses all day. This is for show. Lots of tourists in town and we like to show ‘em how friendly we are. I’ll be back in my boring old uniform tomorrow.”

  “Shame,” said Zooey, looking him up and down. “I like it.”

  “Leave the nice policeman alone, hussy,” said Aaron. He flicked his eyes off his phone and up to the ceiling. “She will love you and leave you, sir. My advice – don’t get involved with this one.”

  “Aaron!” Zooey kicked him under the table.

  “Well, you all have a nice day.” Mahoney nodded politely. “Nice to meet you, but I think it’s time I found a few more tourists to chat to. Maybe some sober ones.”

  As he departed the bar, Zooey glared at Aaron. “Thanks a lot. He was nice. All I wanted to do was talk with the guy.”

  “Yeah, right, and all
I want to do is drink ice-tea and have an early night,” replied Aaron.

  Zooey stuck her tongue out at Aaron and then looked wistfully at the closing door. She thought that Officer Mahoney was perhaps interested in her, more than his civic duty required him to be. And what was wrong with a little flirting? She was out of practice and hadn’t had a boyfriend for nearly a year. It was hard to find the time, and even harder to find the right guy. Too many times at the Stampede she’d fallen for the wrong guy, fooled by the atmosphere and alcohol.

  “Okay, let’s just get another drink and figure out if we want to check out this lame bluegrass band Zooey wants to see, or if we should stay here and get drunk.” Taylor called over to the barman and ordered another round with three shots of tequila to really get the party started.

  * * *

  A few hours later, and the door to the bar opened once more. Staggering out into the light, Zooey and Taylor smacked into the side of a parked taxi in a fit of giggles. Aaron strode out behind them clutching a crumpled newspaper in his hands.

  “I’m telling you, straight up. Aliens.” He waved the newspaper excitedly at them. “Today, meteors over Banff. Tomorrow, little green men on the lawn of the White House.”

  “Stop, stop, Aaron,” said Zooey, wiping away tears. “Come on, you can’t really believe in all that. Look around you. This is reality.” She walked up to Aaron and cupped his face. “Reality, Arron. The Stampede.”

  “Let’s do this!” yelled Taylor. “Stampede, baby!”

  A frowning mother sidestepped them on the sidewalk and a nearby hot dog vendor tutted loudly.

  “You’re just worried about where they’re going to stick their probes.” Zooey let go of Aaron and took Taylor’s hand. “Okay, where next. O’Hannigans? Or maybe Pete’s Place.”

  “I thought we were going to the stadium.” Taylor hiccoughed. “For the radio?”