Black Country


You turn from the spot in the ground where the only signs of this once being a shallow grave is the disturbed earth and debris. A grave you and your friends dug, and into which you deposited the remains of David Bellman. It seems a lifetime ago, after the long road to Canada and back, and you shudder as a frigid gust of wind sends shivers that reignites the tiredness of your body.

You left the old Injun in his barn outside Medicine Hat. You all agreed that it… probably looks like an accident. You send a worried glance towards Trey’s truck. The discomfort of riding around with that… thing in the back… But you can’t destroy it, and you sure as hell can’t leave it. As long as you leave it alone, it seems to be still. You swallow as you try to take it all in.

“I’ve got something!” shouts Reddington. You join the others in a huddle, and the former cop spreads a map of the Northwest on the hood of Sadler’s car. He places his smartphone on top of the map, and taps his phone screen.
“See?” He indicates a news story, and you have to crane your neck to see it over Trey’s shoulder.

KELSO, OR. — A 15-year-old Longview Heights girl is recovering in a hospital after being attacked by a bear, described as “white with a red face”.

“That’s him” Reddington folds his arms. Case closed, to him. Bloody cops, always jump at the closest possible solution. “White fur, face and chest stained by blood.” Well… You’re willing to concede that he might have a point.
“This is close-by,” Sadler chimes in. He puts to fingers to the screen and swipes outwards to enlarge. The date. “It’s the day after we hit him.”
Reddinton points to the map. “He’s moving east south-east.”
“But where to?” Trey scratches himself inappropriately.
Silence falls between you, and the sounds of the night fade in. Mist creeps in from the backwoods, and your breath obscures the others for a second. The thought that the vapour is thick enough to saw through crosses your mind. Saw… Wait a minute…
“You guys…” Your voice sounds oddly thick as it ends the silence. “I know where he’s going…”

S01E01-02 - Previously on Black Country

Dusk is rapidly approaching. The hard, cold, jagged rocks dig into your elbow and stomach as you edge forwards to get a better view at the sight below. You look onto a ramshackle hut, a small outbuilding next to it. It’s the only lead you have for David Bellman, the missing guy your car hit, way back in Oregon. You all agreed that there was something seriously weird going on. You caught a glimpse of something white, furry, just before the car hit. But the corpse was a man. In hospital clothes. You tracked him backwards to a hospital in Washington, and then to a national forest, where a couple was found murdered. Only, the the man wasn’t the husband. Your John Doe was the husband. David Bellman. Who is this corpse, and what happened to Bellman? You ID’d the guys from a tattoo. Jules Proudfellow. White Injun. The only lead? The tattoo itself, a mountain shaped like an Injun’s head in the Badlands: The Badlands Guardian. And now this search has led you here, to this dump, home of an old Injun guy called Joe Two Tipis. Proudfellow was here. You not only feel it, you have proof. The guy at the bicycle repair shop confirmed it. The Injun knows more than he let on.
You glance over your shoulder, where the others stand by the truck, fading from your eyes with the dying of the light. You suddenly feel your phone press against your hip, and have to repress the urge to take it out and check for messages again.
Suddenly, the strange combat vet next to you grunts and changes his position, and you look back down over the hill. Movement. The door to the main house slams open, and that Injun guy, Joe Two Tipis, emerges. Your thoughts start to form into the accusation, about how Two Tipis knew about Jules Proudfellow all along, but they disperse like mist in the sun at the sight that you see.
In his right hand he holds a bloodied knife, swinging with his every step. His left hand clutches something bloody, clearly with some weight to it. What, it is hard to say. The light is almost gone. He saunters towards the shack, and opens it clumsily, using his elbows. A sickly light spills out, and he disappears inside, the door slamming shut by its own volition.
Darkness falls.


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