The River of Bones--An Archie Hunter Adventure

by E C Hunter

  Archie looked about him for inspiration. Nothing. Then something pale caught his eye. It was a long dead maple sapling. The sapling was dry and hard, the bark long since gone. Archie waded over to it. Careful to avoid a loud snapping noise he gave it an exploratory push, his luck held. It had rotted from its rootstock at ground level and came away easily in his hand. Carrying the unwieldy pole he ventured back to the tree and was faced with the next problem. There was not a single hand or foothold within easy reach. If only he had a rope. A belt, he had a belt. Quickly he undid the green nylon webbing belt, thankful that he’d never cut it to a more suitable length for his slim frame. The weighty buckle and sheathed knife allowed him to toss one end over the lowest branch and hang from it to walk up the trunk. After that it was a simple matter to collect the pole he had previously leant against the tree and edge out along the branch. One previously unforeseen problem was that of trouser slippage. Constant adjustment was required to prevent the trousers falling to his ankles. Although he was worried about Milly seeing him he wasn’t sure it would register with her, after all, he’d been completely starkers when they first met! Oh well he thought, might as well just go with it and do it in my boxers. He slipped off the trousers and hung them on a convenient branch.

  As he started to move out along the branch again Archie was able to glance down the path at Milly. She seemed to be in the throes of some kind of fit. It took him a moment or two to realise that she was doubled up with silent laughter. Desperate not to upset the moose further but in fits of the giggles at Archie’s blue and white striped boxers. He decided the best course of action was to ignore her.

  Now look at the problem from above Archie could see that there was no way he could dislodge the pack, it was too heavy and far too enmeshed.

  He needed another solution.

  Chapter 39

  He saw it in the shape of his knife, still in its sheath and attached to his belt. He could attach it somehow to the pole and use it to cut the rucksack free. Simple, surely. In reality, it proved far more troublesome. He tried the belt but just couldn’t get it tight enough, he thought about getting down to dig up some spruce roots but time was not on his side, the moose must surely move soon. In the end, the answer was easily to hand. He looked down at the knife in his hand only to realise that he was, somehow, still wearing two charity wristbands, one from Help for Heroes, the other from the Game and Wildlife Conservation Trust. He pulled them off and simply by doubling over he could slip them over the knife hilt and then roll them back over the stick. Amazed at the result Archie gave the makeshift halberd an exploratory wobble. The knife stayed sound.

  Stealthily he slipped along the branch and looked down at the fuming moose. He wouldn’t have been surprised to see comedy steam coming from its nostrils. The rucksack had been tossed back on to the moose’s shoulder, perfect, he thought, he could see that one antler tine was though a lid strap, another through a main shoulder strap. It looked as they were the only two holding points. Go for the tricky one first thought Archie. The top strap wasn’t under tension, he would have to saw at it. Lucky it wasn’t thick. Gingerly he reached down and after some positional wiggling got the blades edge to the strap. The moose must have caught a glint from the blade; it tossed it’s head at the very moment Archie started to saw. Instantly the strap was put under tension and parted with a twang against the razor edge of the Fallkniven.

  Archie heaved a sigh of relief. Now just the main strap to go. Sweat was prickling Archie’s forehead, running down and stinging his eyes. He wiped his brow on a dangling trouser leg. A slight shift of position saw him in the right place to attack the other strap but to his dismay he saw that the carrying loop was now over another tine, probably as a result of that last shake of the head. He’d leave that one until last he decided quickly; it wasn’t as thick as one of the shoulder straps. He manoeuvred the blade until it was touching the now taught lower end of the shoulder strap. The lower end was much less bulky and would take much less effort. He touched the strap with the edge of the blade. The moose turned it’s head and the strap slacked off. Dammit, thought Archie. He willed Milly to whistle to attract the animal’s attention. He risked a glance at her, nodded his head in the direction of the moose. She understood and gave a short yelp. It did the trick. The moose looked back to Milly, the strap tightened, the blade bit, the strap parted. With the weight off the main strap, the pack fell a few centimetres until it came up sharp on the top strap.

  The sudden movement shocked the moose and caused him to shake again. The seconds ticked by agonisingly slowly as Archie waited for it to settle again. The moose shifted its forefeet slightly. The strap came into view, Archie struck like a rattlesnake. The strap parted and the rucksack hit the ground. The moose took off as if wolves had suddenly appeared in Cape Breton. Archie sagged with relief the suddenly realised the animal was heading straight for Milly again.

  “Milly” yelled Archie at the top of voice. “Badger hole!” She didn’t need telling, she was more than halfway in as the moose swept past, ignoring her completely. Milly wriggled out of the hole as the hoof beats of the moose faded into the distance and wandered back up the path to where Archie was sitting on the branch, legs dangling over the path.

  “I can see right up your shorts from here. Just thought you’d like to know.”

  “Thanks for that.” Replied Archie, trying to retain some level of composure. He dropped his trousers and knife-on-a-stick to the ground, looped his belt over the branch and lowered himself down. “That was fun” he said, casually stepping into his trousers. He picked up his battered rucksack. It made a sorry sight. The thing was encrusted with bear saliva and moose hair, there were now three cut straps, numerous scars and frayed edges and the back system was impregnated with layers of off-white sweat stains. The rifle barrel, protruding from its compartment was plugged with mud. Archie made a mental note to clear it at the first opportunity. Luckily the cut on the shoulder strap was near the buckle so he was able to re-thread it through without losing too much length and, he hoped, circulation. The flap strap wasn’t so easy but with the use of a short length of paracord from one of the pockets it was soon fixed. The top handle didn’t matter.

  Archie undid his knife from the stick, sheathed it and put his wrist bands back on.

  “OK? Let’s go”.

  “Yeah, it’s not my favourite place. Next time we meet a moose along here listen to me, I live here, I know…they don’t scare easy.” Archie had learned a valuable lesson, never discount local knowledge. Archie shrugged on his rather deformed pack.

  “Why don’t you lead” he said to Milly “You know where we’re going.”

  Chapter 40

  The path definitely looked brighter ahead, the insects were reducing in number too. Milly instinctively reduced her walking speed and the pair crept into the light, blinking and squinting. Sure enough there was the ledge and a path down to the road and then the storage depot. They lay down side by side on the ledge and Archie got out his binoculars. The depot was laid out in a grid with straight rows of containers end on to service roads which then met the main artery through the site. This in turn passed a low, ugly office block, through some fearsome looking gates and onto the public road. The whole place was surrounded by a hire chain-link fence topped with razor wire. A formidable barrier.

  There must be over a hundred containers thought Archie.

  “One hundred and ten.” Said Milly as though reading his mind.

  “How on earth do we know which one?”

  “Easy, see at the very back? There’s one with an aircon unit on top. You can’t see it from ground level, only from above. Looks like they’re all in the office, there’s my brother’s truck and dad’s Mustang, over by the office. That old truck is Pierre’s, the rusty T Bird is Willy, the Jeep is Karl. Oh and the Civic is poor Dick. He’s a bit slow. My dad takes advantage of him. I’ve never seen the old Blazer before.”

  “I have,” said Archie “it was the truck the police turned
up in when they took my dad away.” He used his fingers to provide inverted commas when he said the word “police”.

  “What are we going to do now?” asked Milly, knowing the answer.

  “We watch and we wait” replied Archie. Milly nodded her agreement. “Don’t suppose there’s any food left is there?” He asked, purely out of hope. Milly shook her head.

  “My friend Amy works in the store, I could slip down and wait for her to finish. She’d get us some. The path carries on all the way down the slope.”

  “Nah, you’ll get spotted. It’s too risky. We can manage.”

  “Archie, if we don’t eat and drink soon we’ll not be able to do what needs to be done. You know this stuff. I’m pretty sure you told me yourself. I don’t think you thought beyond today either. Once we’ve got Mr Stinky out we’re going to have to run like the wind.” Archie’s face fell. He genuinely hadn’t considered their next move. Somehow in his head he’d thought ‘let the Sasquatch go and then magically everything would be alright’. Now he thought about it he knew that it wouldn’t be the case. All hell would break loose, there would be pursuit, there would be more hunger and less energy.

  “Okay.” He said finally.

  “Okay what?”

  “Okay go and see your friend. We could be running for a long time after this happens.” Or sitting in the container he though gloomily, but didn’t voice it.

  “Errrrrm, I don’t need your permission Archie Hunter. I was going anyway. I’ll be back as quick as I can. Any requests?

  “Anything, just belly-fill. Loads of fat and sugar. Pepsi. Apples, I need some vitamins.” He said, somewhat chastened. At home he knew a dozen plants which would give him the nutrients he needed, here everything was unfamiliar or subtly different. Too risky.

  Milly nodded and was gone. Too late Archie realised that he should have gone with her, to watch her back. Really? Or was there something still deep in his sub-conscious that worried him about her? He decided to use the same tactic he’d employed when she went off before. He would wait a short way away, somewhere he could observe from but remain hidden. If she showed up alone with the food he could casually join her. If she showed up with company, he could melt away.

  The best thing he could do was to follow the escarpment along until he came to another similar spot. The brush was dense and the going was tough but luckily he only needed to cover a hundred or so metres before he came to a small open area. He could see the path down the hill from here, the main gate and the offices and the container. In fact, there was Milly, picking her way down, almost at the bottom. With some relief he could see she was being cautious. Through his binoculars he watched as she emerged on to the quiet road and ran swiftly towards the small town. Archie sagged with relief to see that she was not heading for the storage depot. He watched her until she was out of sight, trying not to focus on those tightly clad legs.

  Archie then turned his attention to the storage depot. He pulled out his dog-eared notebook from his pack, silently thanking waterproof liners and laid it out next to him along with a pencil and the binoculars. He tried to keep a constant watch with the naked eye but every few minutes he would find his eyes closing and his head nodding. Then the sun came out. The warmth of its rays soothed him and eased his aching muscles. Within a minute he was fast asleep.

  Chapter 41

  Magnus woke in the green bower with no concept of how long he had been unconscious. Slowly and stiffly he raised an arm and studied it. It looked normal apart from the dried crust of resin and saliva. He peeled a little off, it came away with a few hairs sticking to it, making him wince. With surprise he saw that the skin underneath was clean and white, only the faint hint of the wounds he had suffered remained. Cleaning up could wait until later he decided. Right now his two most pressing needs were his bladder and an incredible hunger.

  He rose carefully from the bed of balsam and tottered carefully on bare feet to the edge of the bower to relive himself. As he stood there, through the trees he caught a glimpse of water glimmering in the morning sun. On unsteady legs he made his way towards the pool. It was fringed by cattails but was clear and inviting. Magnus lowered himself carefully into the pool. The pool was cool and soothing, loosening some of the stiff coating, making movement easier. Magnus reached over and pulled a cattail. He peeled the outer layers and crunched the centre. He would, he decided, take the risk of some water borne nasty. After all, he was probably pretty much inured to all the various bugs out there, having spent so many years on expedition.

  Magnus allowed himself a good half hour soaking in the pool and chomping on the cattail. After the soaking the resin was not that much easier to remove but at least it had loosened a little and didn’t feel quite so revolting. He climbed out and lay in the sun to dry off. He dozed a little and tried to piece together the events of the past few days. Then came the realisation. He was completely naked. He had no idea where his clothes might be although he seemed to remember that they had been none too useful as clothes the last time he had seen them. He couldn’t very well go off to find his son with no trousers on. He would just have to improvise.

  Magnus wandered back to his bed of fir branches, shedding small chunks of resin as he walked and lay down, he was still a little shaky and lightheaded. Sleep took him again almost immediately. Sometime after dark he became aware of movement around him. Opening his eyes made little difference; the darkness was complete and dense. He felt a light touch on his chest and shoulders. Some kind of new goo was being applied. This one felt silky and dried quickly. When the application was complete he felt fir branches being placed over him and once more sleep took him.

  The next time he awoke was to rain, It poured through the tree canopy and dripped in heavy droplets from the leaves, chilling him and causing the new coating on his skin to become slick and shiny. He raised a hand from underneath the fir blanket, the coating looked like some kind of grey clay. It was, he supposed, meant to act as a barrier to infection and insect attack. It certainly seemed to be working, none of his wounds had become infected and he didn’t seem to have any problems with ticks, keds or lice. The problem he did have however was the cold, even though the air temperature was still fairly warm, the water was dripping through the branches and chilling him down, quickly. Magnus levered himself from the fir-branch bed and started to work on his stiff, unused muscles. He rotated his shoulders, swung his arms and then, slowly at first, started to run with a ridiculous high-stepping gait, arms out in front, hands clenching and unclenching. It was at the end of his third circle that he noticed the brown lump which hadn’t been there the previous night. On closer inspection it turned out to be a pile of deer skins, stinking and unscraped, but skins none the less. Undoubtedly put there by his guardians. He shook one out, it certainly hadn’t been taken off the deer with a knife, it was torn and ragged with lumps of flesh and fat clinging to the inside. Gathering up the reeking pile in his arms Magnus carried them to the pool and climbed in with them. An hour later by using flat stones and handfuls of grit he had the skins looking almost free from fat and flesh. All the time he worked he had kept a subtle eye open for the Sasquatches but not once had he spotted them, not even a dark shadow moving in the trees.

  By the time he had finished his task the rain had stopped and the clouds were starting to break up. Magnus laid the hides out on some bushes with the skin side towards the emerging sun. While they dried he lay in the sun and let it warm his bones through. He suddenly felt very old and tired and his thoughts turned to his son. Where the hell was he? How on earth was he going to find him? He thought, long and deep. His son had a strong sense of right and wrong, he knew that. Therefore, in the face of the injustices that had occurred he would be trying to make things better. By involving the authorities? By taking matters into his own hands? Good question. Last time he had seen him he’d been heading towards Ingonish. That meant only one thing, he was on his way to rescue his father from the self-storage depot. It was the only explanation.


  But that was before he ended up in the charge of the Sasquatches. He had no idea how that had happened. He remembered a man with a rifle, he’d just fired it. Yes! It was coming back. He’d seen the Sasquatch fall in the distance. He’d crept up to the man while he was taking aim again and knocked him out. Then then the children had come. On horses. Then…nothing. He could remember no more. The next thing he could remember was waking to the ministrations of the female Sasquatch.

  But now he wasn’t being held captive surely Archie would try to find him or at least be alerting the authorities to try and find him. No, of course he wouldn’t be alerting any authorities. Self-reliance. He had always drilled it in to his son. If you got yourself into a situation, you got yourself out of it. You didn’t go running to a metaphorical mummy. You looked after yourself, your family and friends. You didn’t ask the state to do it for you. So, with that in mind where would he be? At the camp, waiting? Possible. Heading away from Ingonish to the other obvious town, Cheticamp? Quite possibly. Watching the enemies lair? Most likely. After all, Magnus had no idea how he ended up in the care of the Sasquatches, Archie probably had no clue he had even been in their care. For all Archie knew, Magnus surmised, he might well have been re-taken by his previous captors.

  It seemed likely then that Archie would be found at Ingonish. Watching, waiting, planning. Magnus glanced at the sun, worked out which way was East and made to set off. Then, noticing he was still naked grabbed one of the deer skins and tucked it round his waist like a sarong and draped another over his shoulders like a shawl. He took a couple of steps and the sarong fell off. OK, this would take some ingenuity he thought. He thought for a moment and an idea came to him.

  Using a pair of suitable stones as punch and hammer he pierced a series of holes in the edge of the sarong. The deer skin was an incredibly tough material and it took He delved in the soil under a nearby spruce and pulled up a handful of long roots. It was an easy task to strip off the soil and outer layers. The result was a pale coloured, strong and flexible cord. Magnus threaded the cord through the holes to make a crude but serviceable drawstring. While he was in the mood he made a few holes in the front of the shawl and threaded another length of spruce root through to make a front fastening.