The River of Bones--An Archie Hunter Adventure

by E C Hunter

  “Never heard of anyone doing that here. Sounds like a cool job.”

  “It is, it’s hard work but you only get keepers who love the life, it’s a way of life, not a job. You get a house and a Land Rover with the job, not bad money and really good tips. Plus a set of tweeds and a pair of boots when you need them.”

  “I’m going to be dumb again, a set of tweeds?”

  “You know what tweed is right? Milly nodded. “Well, most estates have their own pattern, different sizes of checks and different colours colours, not like purple and yellow but usually colours from the landscape. Ours is a sort of dull green with a check of amber and another of russet. If that makes sense.”

  “Yeah, I guess so. Sounds great.”

  “Well, then we take this fabric and have it made into suits for everyone who works on the estate. Not like a city suit, it has breeks instead of trousers and the jacket is cut for movement and has loads of pockets, the tweed is pretty much weather proof too. Oh, breeks end just below the knee, better for wearing with boots in the heather. Just wish I had a picture to show you, when you get everyone together it looks so cool.”

  “Well, maybe I’ll just have to come and see for myself.” Said Milly. Archie’s heart gave another little skip.

  “You’ll be very welcome.” Said Archie, trying to sound relaxed and urbane; and failing. “We’d better get on, how far do you reckon now?” Milly shrugged her shoulders for an answer. “Oh well, come on.”

  The land was changing subtly with every hour that passed, the valleys were getting deeper, the trees more varied, now there were oaks and pines mixing with the maples and spruce. Tumbling streams met and joined, merging to make rivers. Here and there were open areas of ground, sparsely populated with a few stunted, moose browsed trees. Then, quite suddenly the forest stopped. Stumps, stacked timber, wheel marks and enormous windrows of brash. The decimated area was vast, stretching as far as they could see. They stood stunned on the edge of the clear-fell. After so long in the woods this seemed like sacrilege, a hideous offence against the forest. It was Milly who came to her senses first and who surprised Archie with her knowledge.

  “Don’t worry, it’ll grow back quicker than you think. Outside the park there’s a system of rotational harvesting, most of this is secondary regrowth. It’s a valuable resource for the area.”

  “If you say so.” Archie had grown up with his father’s rigid views on forestry, that a continuous cover should be maintained, that clear-fell was the work of the devil. But of course here they weren’t looking at individual plantations just discreet patches in the vast forest. Archie realised that it wasn’t fair to compare the two. It was at that point in his thought process that he noticed the row of huge forestry equipment parked in a neat line along one edge of the cleared area. Even under the huge pressure of the last few days his interest was piqued and one of his childhood passions resurfaced. His passion for machinery. His bedroom until quite recently had been plastered with posters of huge forest machines and indeed it wasn’t a hollow interest, he fully expected to go on to study forestry at university and then take over the management of the family forestry portfolio. He really wanted to go over and take a look at these machines. Milly sensed his desire.

  “Archie, no time, come on, they’re over a kilometre away.” Archie nodded and gave a wistful look at the machines. They set off across the clear-fell, following one of the enormous windrows of brash which ran seemingly endlessly, at the far end they could just make out another machine, it was clearly enormous but dwarfed by hill behind it. It was pale and conical against the far trees. Chips, woodchips and the machine next to it was a chipper, a huge whole tree chipper. This gigantic creature of the forest was fed pretty much any size of tree by a tracked machine with a grapple, the huge spiked intake rollers mercilessly pull in anything it’s fed. It’s pushed against what amounts to a vast cheese grater and is reduced to chips the size of, well, a chip. These chips are then blown out of a tall curved spout either into a trailer or on to a pile for movement later. The chips were then used for biomass boilers. A neat operation.

  As the angle of their approach changed slightly with the windrow the feeding machine also came into view. It was a Cat excavator with a timber grapple. A big one. Odd that they weren’t working thought Archie, then he realised, it must be a Sunday. Archie was lost in thought, thinking how much he would like to see these machines in operation when a sound rose in the quiet. The roar of diesels starting.

  “What day is it?” He asked Milly.

  “Sunday, I think.” Answered Milly.

  “I’ve got a bad feeling. A really bad feeling. Do people go to church hereabouts?”

  “Generally.” Said Milly, “folks are pretty God fearing round here.”

  “Then I really do have a bad feeling, we need to run, NOW!”

  Chapter 52

  They had reached a point of trust in their relationship, when one of them said run, they ran. There was no need for questions or quizzical looks, for discussion or time wasting. This trust had been forged the hard way, on the anvil of danger. The high windrow of brash gave them a sense of security. A mistake, there was no security. The beat of the diesels was growing louder. Layers of the discordant sound writhed over each other, deep and menacing.

  “Stay there, I’m going to take a look.” Archie slipped off his pack and climbed the three metres or so to the top of the windrow. It was every bit as bad as he had feared. Three enormous machines were charging over the clear-fell, holding an arrowhead formation. Heading straight for them. Archie subconsciously identified them. On the left was a log loader, four huge tyres, massive log grapple on the front. The right hand station was held by a knuckle boom harvester. A six wheeled dinosaur, heavy harvesting head on the end of an eleven metre boom. The head lethally equipped with spiked feed rollers, branch stripping blades and a hydraulically driven chainsaw.

  Out front was the ominous bulk of a feller buncher. This four-wheeled leviathan, with hundreds of horsepower on tap had a front mounted harvesting head. It simply drove up to a tree, embraced it with huge steel arms, an immense circular saw cut through the stem and with barely a check moved on to the next. Simple, massive and deadly. Archie couldn’t yet make out the faces of the drivers but was certain who they would be. He slithered down the pile of brash.

  “They must have second guessed our route, we need to reach the trees, quickly”. He picked up the pack, glancing at the rifle barrel protruding from the top. He could end it quickly, here and now. He knew he could do it. No, he’d spend the rest of his life under some kind of regime or other if he did. Not worth it. But a portion of his mind kept the option in reserve. Like a break glass in case of emergency button. They ran, risking the occasional glance over their shoulders. Nothing visible beyond three plumes of white smoke blowing into the sky, the growing roar of the diesels increasing in volume every minute.

  But the machines were the other side of the windrow. They couldn’t reach them until the end. Until they had reached the relative safety of the trees. It occurred to Archie as they ran that driving these machines was one thing operating them was quite another. Therefore they might be safe in the trees. Assuming their pursuers couldn’t work the cutting gear. No sooner had the thought been formed when it was tossed away by a new sound. The feller buncher had started its saw. Archie could hear the speed building, RPM increasing moment by moment. Archie had seen these saws in action at demonstration days. They were not like any saw you might see in a workshop. For a start the blade was horizontal and fully 5cm thick. The teeth were enormous, each the size of a coffee cup and there were twenty two of them, rotating at huge speed. They could cut a huge tree in moments. Above this were the arms for gripping the tree, capable of holding huge stems and tilting them forward to lay them on the ground following the cut. Hugely powerful, hugely strong and utterly terrifying.

  The feller buncher seemed to be outpacing the other two machines, its huge tyres floating over the rough ground effortlessly
. Archie glanced left and could see the plume of black diesel smoke pumping skywards over the windrow. The machine was level with them. A few seconds later it was past them. The without warning it burst through the windrow throwing a shower of sticks and brash into the air, pulled a tight turn and came to a stop facing them. Diesel engine throbbing, the driver blipping the throttle every few seconds.

  “It’s my Father. Tabernac!” Said Milly succinctly. Archie hadn’t expected it to be anyone else. He made a subconscious mental note to ask what Tabernac meant at a later date. Behind them the loader blasted through the windrow and sat behind them, revving menacingly, branches hanging haphazardly from it. The harvester followed through the gap and drew up alongside them. Seamus leered at them from the cab. Slowly he made a gun from two fingers, pointed it at Archie and pulled an imaginary trigger. Archie clearly saw him mouth the words bang, you’re dead. Seamus killed his engine and popped the cab door open.

  “You’ve got what’s ours, give her back and you can be on your way.” The voice was rough, possibly drunk thought Archie. He didn’t believe for one moment that they would let him go. Not after he had tied them to trees.

  “He hasn’t got anything you lummock, I choose to be here, I choose to leave you to your sordid lives.” Milly sounded steely cool, unfazed, determined.

  “Shut your pie hole you little tramp. You boy, send her here and we’ll say no more.” The voice was hectoring and condescending.

  “What Milly chooses to do is nothing to do with me.” Yelled Archie with more confidence than he felt. “She’s a free person, leave her alone.” He felt a hand on his back and heard a whispered thank you. “We’re going to walk out of here now, you won’t hurt us, you don’t want to kill anyone else.” As soon as the final words left his lips he realised his mistake. They saw Seamus pick up a hand held radio and talk to the others. They could see Patrick and Milly’s father listening, replying, thinking. They couldn’t make out the words but knew there was nothing good being said. “We need a plan.” He whispered.

  “Uh huh, any bright ideas?” Milly asked.

  “Nope, not a thing. I’ve no idea what to do.” They both looked around, there was simply nothing, nowhere to go, no escape. They were utterly trapped. Was it time for the rifle? No, it wasn’t. As soon as he slipped the pack off they would guess his intention, they must know he had it with him, surely. You could see the barrel for heavens sake. With three of them, almost certainly armed, he wouldn’t last a minute. No, not the rifle. But another idea was forming. He looked around. “Look for the badger hole” he whispered to Milly. “We’ll make a dive into the windrow and work our way along, break out the other side and run for the trees again.”

  “Won’t work, didn’t you see how that machine bust through the branches? That thing is insane.”

  “Got a better idea?” Asked Archie.

  “Nah. Okay, there’s a bitty hole about 10 metres to your left, don’t look you lemon, we’ll just run for it OK? We can get a long way in before they have time to react. You’ll have to slip your pack off as we go in and drag it behind you. That or dump it.”

  “Can’t dump it, too much gear, all my photos, camera, notebook, rifle. Dad’ll kill me if I lost the photos.”

  “Okay, you just have to do your best. Ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be.”

  “Okay, on three.” Milly gave a slow count to three and sprinted for the hole. She didn’t look back, didn’t pause, didn’t waver. It caught Archie a little off guard and he was perhaps a second behind her. By the time he reached the hole her feet had disappeared. “Come on Archie, hurry it up.” Archie dropped the pack, dived in the hole and pulled the pack in after him. The diesels roared, it would take seconds for the first machine to reach them. Archie knew which they would choose to follow them, the loader, almost certainly. Milly’s feet were disappearing along a space underneath the windrow but Archie was having trouble. The rifle barrel kept catching on the brash, dragging it behind him was near impossible, pushing it ahead of him was impossible. Only one thing for it. Get the rifle out, sling in upside down on his back and then try to pull the pack after him. Should be easier without the barrel fouling everything. He pulled out the Blaser and refastened the top flap. Milly’s voice rose urgently above the diesel noise.

  “What the hell are you doing? Come on!”

  “Coming, having a bit of trouble.”

  “Not as much as you’ll be in in a moment, the yellow one is almost on you.”

  “Okay Okay, nearly done.” He turned to grab the pack in time to see a gigantic curved steel claw slicing though the brushwood, pierce the bottom end of the pack, and along with its twin carry on to meet the bottom forks and rip up a mini car sized section of the windrow. It was dragged backwards, exposing Archie to the view of the Murphy’s. He didn’t pause to lament the loss of the pack, just turned a dated after Milly before the loader could take another bite. He could hear the grab opening and the contents being tipped out. “Milly”, he yelled above the din of the machinery, “go straight out the other side and run, I’m right behind you”. But he wasn’t, he had an idea. In a small space under the brash he unslung the rifle and jammed the muzzle into the soft soil, again and again until the barrel was completely full of soil. He gave the outside of it a cursory wipe and shot after Milly. She was waiting on the edge of windrow,

  “Looks clear” she said “Ready?”

  “Yup, you?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “On three, one, two.” The loaders grab bit into the brash behind them. “THREE!” yelled Archie, “Go!” Milly ran first, making straight for the trees. Archie followed, a few metres behind, he was carrying the rifle horizontally in one hand. After twenty or so metres he fumbled and dropped the rifle. He carried on a few paces before turning to look for it, saw the feller buncher breaking through the windrow and decided to leave it. At least, that’s what the Murphy boys saw as the other machines breached the wall of brash.

  Archie sensed a machine coming to a halt behind him. The engine died and the door popped. It was working, no time for second thoughts or recriminations. The question now was whether the physics would work. Archie risked a glance over his shoulder. Patrick was picking up the rifle. He was too far to hear the snicker of the bolt, every second was making him a more difficult target he thought as he ran, Milly even more so. He put a little obliqueness to his run to make him even more difficult to hit. Should the physics fail.

  “Milly” he shouted, “run at an angle, head right a little.” He risked another glance. Patrick had the rifle up to his shoulder. He could almost feel the foresight pip riding on his back, right between his shoulder blades. The report of the rifle, when it came was sudden and shocking, even from Archie’s position over a hundred metres away. He flinched at the sound but immediately realised that if he had heard the shot he was still alive. The bullet would have hit him before he heard the sound. Or missed him at the very least.

  Chapter 53

  The bullet had not even left the cartridge. With the barrel blocked, the exploding powder in the case could not push the bullet in the usual direction. The pressure had to go somewhere and even in this superbly engineered rifle it could not go up the barrel. It went backwards and outwards, it shattered the bolt housing and caused the bolt to fly backwards at just less than half the speed the bullet would have flown forwards. It entered Patrick’s face just below his cheekbone connecting with his upper teeth causing them to star-burst every direction. The teeth worked their way into the sinuses and soft tissues of the face. The bolt continued on its journey and left Patrick’s neck just to one side of his cervical vertebrae. He collapsed instantly, breath rasping and bubbling in his throat. Seamus ran to his brother’s side but seeing the damage stood dumbly, staring down at the appalling wound. He had no first aid training, no first aid kit and little empathy. He did the only thing he could think in the situation. He shot his brother in the head. Then he emptied his pistol ineffectually after the fleeing Archie and ra
n back to his machine.

  Archie heard the shots but didn’t look back, just kept heading obliquely across the open ground, getting closer to the woodland edge with every step. None of the bullets even came close. He didn’t hear any of them strike the ground or ricochet. He hadn’t really expected to. A pistol at that range was like trying to swat midges with a fence post. Milly was waiting at the edge of the trees, spindly secondary growth maples from a previous felling coup.

  “What happened?” She asked.

  “Not sure” Said Archie, avoiding the subject, “Come on, we need to keep going. Look.” He pointed over his shoulder to where the feller buncher had started its rampage once more. “We need to find something it can’t get over, a cliff or something.” Behind the feller buncher the harvester was lumbering towards them, the felling head swinging like the trunk of some malevolent steel elephant. The noise as the feller buncher hit the first tree shocked them both and it just carried on, relentlessly cutting a broad swathe through the forest as it charged after them.

  Tree after tree fell in showers of chippings and leaves. The machine merely knocked them down and drove over them doggedly tailing the fleeing couple. They ran. There was nothing more they could do. The forest floor had become dead flat, there were no features to hide behind, nothing to climb up or slide down. They could run, but for how long? Archie was glad not to be wearing his pack and Milly had already discarded her bag. Archie thought briefly that they could perhaps find them again later – if they survived. No, he shook himself mentally. He hadn’t come this far not to survive. Giving up was not an option. He reached for Milly’s hand and hauled her along with new determination. Archie risked a glance over his shoulder, the knuckleboom harvester had overtaken the feller buncher, its long arm was reaching towards them, he could hear the chainsaw whining and the hydraulic motors powering the spiked feed rollers.