S15E21 - "Nihilism" - Horror Hill

Erik Peabody (0:02)

Chilling Tales for Dark Nights.

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Greetings listeners and welcome back to Horror Hill. Tonight, we're continuing our run featuring author Micah Edwards with a fun story about togetherness, good neighbors, and a sentient black gas that destroys everything it touches. Well, maybe not all of those things. In fact, maybe just one of those things. I'll leave it to you to guess which one. Your big hint is that the story is titled, The Black Fog. And just to remind you, next week, we'll be closing out this Micah Edwards monomania with an announcement that I'm sure you'll find very interesting. But for now, let's get started.

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And now, from author Micah Edwards, I give you The Black Fog.

The cows were dead. Not all of them, not by a long shot. But these six were. These six at least. There was no way of knowing how many more were yet to be discovered.

What I don't get, Scotty said to his brother as they knelt by one of the still forms, is how those Hatfields did it.

Lawrence gave him an absent mind to grunt in return as he carefully examined one cow's body. There was no obvious physical trauma, no visible blood. The tongue was unswollen. The body no more bloated than would be expected after a night of decomposition. All of them were the same. It looked as if the cows had just laid down and died.

Could be poison, Lawrence offered, though the answer satisfied neither of them. If it was poison, how would it have been delivered? And how would just these six been affected? Scotty had already checked the cameras and there hadn't been anyone skulking around the pasture. If it was the feed or water, this would have been much more widespread.

The question was academic in any case. How didn't matter as much as who. And as Scotty had already stated, who was obvious. It was the Hatfields down at Mullen farm trying to screw him over again. Hatfield wasn't their real name, of course, or the farm wouldn't be called Mullen. But Scotty's last name was McCoy. And with the long standing feud between their families, the parallel was too obvious to pass up. Plus, it stuck in Chuck Mullens' craw every time he heard that name, which didn't exactly bother Scotty much. If Mullen didn't like having his family defined by their grudge against the McCoys, all he had to do was stop perpetrating the stupid fight. Well, and replace these cows now.

Scotty scowled down at the dead animals. He knew he'd never get even an admission of guilt from Chuck, let alone an apology. Not from any of his offspring either. To a man, they were some of the most useless excuses for citizens that this town had ever produced. About the only skill they had was thieving business deals away from more deserving folks. Stooping to direct assault on the livestock was a new low for them, but Scotty couldn't say he was truly surprised. Nothing was beneath them.

Lawrence straightened up, shrugging his shoulders. I'm going down to the Mullens place.

You know they won't fess up to this. I'm not going to talk to them. I'm just going to make things even. I'm coming with you, Scotty said.

They loaded the bed of the truck with concentrated weed killer and a few other nasty chemicals from the barn. Scotty figured that it'd leave their options open when they got there. There were plenty of ways to do damage to a farm, and Scotty intended to get six cows worth of retribution. He wasn't even going to be able to butcher the animals, not without knowing what the Hatfields had done. He wasn't about to serve his family poisoned meat. The cows were a total loss.