Skinwalker Apocalypse

Mr Boyd

Mr Fedrick Boyd was an imposing figure. He was a tall man, standing at an height of 5'11" and with a wide build. His features were hard, his face unsmiling in a way that made you want to look away if he looked at you too hard.

He had a slinked back hairstyle, his black peppered with numerous white strands, a result of hard work and stress of running a company since his youth.

Westcoast International Collectibles is a company that deals with finding, buying and auctioning rare artefacts, antiques and every other expensive collectibles.

This company had been the dream of two young men and their brothers, and regardless of several mishaps, stumbling blocks and setbacks, Fedrick Boyd, with the help of his best friend, Charles Yiska, had made that dream a reality.

W. I. C. was now a multi-million dollar company and Mr. Fedrick Boyd was the C. E. O of the company at the age of 45 with his slightly older friend, Mr. Yiska as the largest shareholder.

While Mr. Boyd looked like a force to be reckoned with, his companion was the opposite.

The shorter man, about 5'7" had a generally slouching figure that made the short man look even smaller.

He wore tiny dark shade spectacles that helped prevent the harsh sunlight from his sensitive eyes.

With casual clothing unlike his friend who was dressed head to toe in a tailored navy suit and a complementary white and navy blue tie, the 46 year old looked and behaved like your friendly next-door neighbor grandpa.

The rest of the shareholders were already seated by the time Mr. Fedrick Boyd got into the boardroom for the annual general meeting.

The side chatters immediately subsided at the presence of the second largest shareholder of the company and the C. E. O. of Westcoast International Collectibles, also known as W.I.C.

Mr Boyd walked up to his designated seat with a grim look and sat down at the edge of the table on the soft finish piece of furniture.

The room was fully occupied, not only with the familiar faces of shareholders but also with the faces of aspiring shareholders all invited to be a part of the A. G. M.

The middle aged man looked around at each one of the occupants of the table in his way of commanding respect and 'owning the room'. Then began the meeting.

*-*-*-*

Hours later, after the overwhelming and rigorous meeting had dragged on and was finally coming to an end, Mr. Boyd stood up from his seat and cleared his throat to gain everyone's attention.

"Thank you ladies and gentlemen for votes and participation in today's A. G. M. Before bringing this meeting to a close, I would like to say a few words."

Everyone, including Mr Yiska listened up, wondering what the C. E. O. had to say. Charles was especially surprised since his best friend had not told him of anything special announcement that he might give at the meeting.

"After this administrative year, I would like to take an early retirement from running this company." As expected, this statement was met with a lot of side discussions varying from why the CEO. might want to retire, to who could possibly be the next successor.

Mr. Boyd raised his voice above the hubbub "I think it's about time for the younger generation to take us to the next level. On this note, I would like to do one last thing before finally withdrawing behind the scenes of this company's administration."

He paused dramatically and waited for everyone to quiet down till only his voice could be heard. " In honor of the late Mr George Yiska and the late Mr Stanley Boyd, I want to bring back project Deathmoore. And this time, I intend to see it through."

Charles Yiska's eyes widened in horror.

*-/-/-*

"Fedrick, p-please think this through. Project D-deathmoore was a fail. One that scarred the both of us... in more ways than one. How can you even think to go send people back t-there?"

Fedrick opened his ever present bottle of whiskey and poured it into two tumblers before adding two ice cubes each.

"Relax, and have a drink." He took his drink quickly and poured a second shot before continuing. " WIC is already a successful company, reaching it's hundreds of millions last week. If we can manage to pull this off, we can bring this company to a multi-billion dollar establishment, just like we always dreamed and then, we can both finally retire."

"B-but tha..that p-place..."

Fedrick pressed his lips into a thin line. If he were a child, he would have rolled his eyes at how scared the other sounded. "We both know that I do not believe in that nonsense. I am a man of logic and reasoning."

Charles clasped his walking stick in shaking hands. His glass of whiskey seating untouched "Our brothers..."

"Died in an hiking accident, Old Charlie." Fedrick Boyd cut in and took a sip of his hotdrink.

Charles Yiska shook his head unable to comprehend how the other could still remain insistent that what had happened to their brothers was no more than "an hiking accident" even after he had suffered twenty years from the aftermath of the journey, getting his final corrective surgery some months ago.

The memory of how he got that leg injury, the nightmares that plagued him almost every night since then, made him shiver at the mere thought of the Deathmoore Forest.

"But what of me, Fedrick?" He pleaded again trying to make his friend see reason.

"You twisted your ankle and fell hitting your head. The doctors reports says this."

"But the horrible things I saw..."

"Like I said, you hit your head." Fedrick said with a tone of finality, staring his friend down. The other quickly shut up.

"We have a better chance this time, old friend. We have money to employ the best people to scourge that mountain and bring back the remains of our brothers, along with whatever treasure legend claims are there."

"Whoever you plan to employ, They don't know their way around the Deathmoore forests, or the caves. They don't know what they are going there to face." The last sentence became a whisper from Charles's lips.

"That is why we would go with them." Mr Fedrick Boyd said.

He continued to look his friend in the eye. " Look at it this way, you get to satisfy your curiosity about that place and maybe lay your devils to rest there, and I get what I have always wanted. Closure!"

"Fine. Whatever you say. You're the boss." Charles said and took his now watered down shot of whiskey.

Mr Boyd's personal assistant stood by watching and listening in to the whole conversation without a single comment.

And so, it begins.