Jackalope Horror

Olivia M. Schmidt 

Jackalope Horror

Under the full moonlight, half a dozen horses and their riders tracked cautiously over the cool desert sand. They hold the reins in a white-knuckled grip with a rifle slung around their backs. Thunder rolled in the distance, steadily growing closer and closer. The horses snorted and neighed, stomping their hooves nervously against the rough grains. At the raised clenched fist of the sheriff, the little band stopped. 

“We’ll carry on foot,” the gruff voice of the sheriff could be heard over the growing rumble. “Don’t want it to spook or injure the horses.” With a pat to his steed’s side, he dismounted and adjusted his dual bone-hilted pistols at his sides before turning back to others who soon joined him. To the youngest, the leader spoke, “Boy, watch over the horses. Keep them safe. We’ll be back soon.”

“Hopefully, with its hide.” Another member, Dale, ‘helpfully’ added. 

“Yes, sir.” The youngest promised the first man. 

“Good man.” The boy amongst the men ducked to hide the flush of color. To the others, “Let’s get this done.” With that, the posse disappeared into the undergrowth. They moved slowly, guns at the ready. Despite the cooler air, the men were sweating from the anticipation and increasing dread. The thunder seemed to be on top of them, the ground shaking and quaking with the intensity of it. The group faltered in step. 

“Steady men!” The sheriff commanded, voice still strong and level. Before they could lift their guns a centimeter, a streak of tumbleweed brown and creamy white shot out of a gnarled, craggily bush. The ground vibrated and caused two men to fall on their rear ends. The blur stopped in front of Dale. Startled, he fell backward and yelped when connected with a cactus. 

“Dale!” One of the plain Jane folks, Hank, yelled. Raising the rifle, he added, “Turn so I can shoot you in your God dang eye.” Black eyes met his. Several rifle fires went off simultaneously, but none hit while the creature leaped into the air. Its hind legs connected with Dale’s chest, causing his ribs to snap and pierce his lungs. The jackalope didn’t wait for Dale’s last suffocating death. Instantly pushing off his chest, the beast repeated the same treatment to Hank’s head. It burst like a watermelon. Shots continued to fire, but they never grazed the creature. After Hank, the antlered rabbit bounced across the desert floor and gouged into the third man’s, John, chest with those antlers. John’s rifle went off and struck Rufus dead. The last Plain Jane folk ran up to the beast, who was preoccupied with yanking its antlers out with a sickening squelch. He trained his gun on the jackalope. 

“Don’t try to move, bitch,” snarled the man. As a warning, he fired a shot and clipped the jackalope’s ear. Its eyes widened. A mistake that action was. With a mighty leap, the hare quickly dropped back down. The ground split from the impact, and the man plunged into the newly created chasm. His screams could be heard fading into the fathomless depths below. The sheriff scrambled away. He tried not to stumble and fall as the man ran toward the waiting horses. However, only one horse was waiting, trying desperately to flee from its tether, with the boy holding onto it for dear life. The other horses had already bolted. 

“Well done, boy!” Heaving swiftly into the saddle, the sheriff held his hand out for the reins and lifted the boy up behind him. Without much prompting, the horse carried the men away. Even at the clipped pace the horse set, the ground continued to tremble underneath them. The two men spotted the jackalope leaping nearer from their peripheries. 

“What do we do, sir?” The boy asked, borderline hysterical. His arms tightened around the older man’s chest, where he hung on for dear life. 

“We’re encumbered! We need to lose some weight!”

“How do we do that, sir?” He barely thought about it, if at all, before the sheriff unbuckled his pistol and shot the boy’s side. Yelping, the boy’s arms loosened and, with a final shove, toppled off to the ground below. The injured boy watched in shock as the cowardly man kept running without a backward glance. Without any remorse. Indeed, Sheriff Anderson felt no guilt. Maybe, he would when safely back in town after comforting the mourning families over their deceased. Or after returning with more armed men and finally skinning that monster alive. But not now. All he cared about was dodging the opening chasms erupting around him. The horse raced along the ridge off a burned valley of warrens, and distantly the sheriff saw the lit lanterns and chatter of his town when an abyss split in front of them. 

Instinctually, the bipedal creature reared up and bucked off its passenger. The man tumbled over and over until he reached the bottom of the warren valley. Shakily, he pushed himself up onto his hands and knees. But before he stood or even moved another muscle, the jackalope leaped into the air and landed before him. Sand and dried earth slammed against the sheriff, knocking him into a dead, gnarled tree. A broken branch fell and pinned him down. Thunder ominously rolled above as the small creature advanced closer to the trapped man. Struggling around the branch, he upholstered his dual pistols and pointed them at the jackalope. Or, at least, he tried to. 

“AAHHH!” Anderson screamed as the creature lunged forward, breaking his forearms with its front paws. Its antlers framed the man’s face as the jackalope’s face hovered before his. When the sheriff’s eyes focused, they widened from dawning horror. One of the jackalope’s antlers was shorter than the other. Broken, in fact, by blunt force, from a long time ago. Five years ago, if Anderson guessed. Which meant this was the same warren where Anderson and the rest of the town hunted the jackalopes because they were a nuisance and later a sport. To extinction, at least for one. A baby jackalope who the sheriff maliciously broke its antler and left to die. That jackalope, the last one, stood before the man with righteous hatred and vengeance in its eyes. And it left, thunder echoing further away as the jackalope headed toward the sheriff's town to enact its revenge.