by Mark Tufo
The one walks to the table and raises its hands as if commanding silence. Instead, the chants take on more urgency and rise in volume, their depth in direct contrast to the night runners’ shrieks. Listening, the din folds into a near harmonious orchestra. I get the feeling that the night runners have been drawn here for this very reason.
The twelve move to take positions around the stone slab. It’s then that I see the one they intend to sacrifice in full view.
Oh, hell no! This is just flat out not going to happen!!
I’m taken aback for just a moment by Bri’s long blond hair splayed against the stone. Manacles are around her wrists and ankles, the thin white robe barely hiding her figure. Though I expect the blue eyes to register fear, they instead glare in outrage at the robed figure. The face is unmistakable as both dread and rage boil to the surface. I react before a single thought crosses my mind.
The red-robed figure is chanting as it quickly withdraws the serpentine blade from its sheath and raises it over the figure chained to the table. The chant falls short as a single report rises above the cacophony and echoes throughout the clearing. The robed one drops the knife and it hits the table with the clinking sound of metal on stone.
Blood sprays from the front of the cowl and red spatters appear on the white robe covering Bri. The robed one’s head snaps forward as the high-speed projectile slams into the back of its head and its knees give way almost instantaneously. It falls to the ground prone as if in prayer, asking forgiveness of my daughter lying on the table, before falling to the side like a sack of flour. There was a risk of hitting Bri with the shot, but that knife was about to descend.
The twelve gathered around the slab all startle but seem to recover much faster than I would have guessed. All covered heads look to the fallen body and then, in unison, turn directly toward me on my narrow perch and raise their arms. My sight settles on the first one, but before I can send my greeting card, I feel the air around me compress. I’m pulled from my place and over the edge. Completely not expecting such a thing to ever occur, it’s all I can do to keep hold of my weapon.
In the mere second before I slam into the ground, I maneuver my body to land somewhat on my feet and free hand. In a split second, I notice several things. The first is that the cave entrance has a black shimmer across the opening. Beyond that is a roiling storm of dark clouds flared with oranges and reds. There’s no sound accompanying the tempest, but I can sense a tremendous force, energy, or power…whichever you prefer.
The second thing I notice is that the ones around the fire have not moved from their positions, still chanting with the same volume and intensity as when the knife-bearer walked out of the cave. The third, and perhaps most important, is that the ones on the perimeter are still keeping the barrier active. Beyond, the night runners are still frantically attempting to break through.
On my knees, I quickly bring my carbine around and get a shot off at the first one in my line of fire. The figure in red jerks backward from my rounds impacting the chest and then tumbles to the ground. With arms still upraised, a sharp command is yelled by the others in a language I can’t even guess at. Seeing that I’m not multilingual, that pretty much leaves about all of them.
A tremendous wave of compressed air crashes into me, lifting me off my knees before I’m thrown backward. I hit the stone cliff hard, momentarily stunned as I fall to the side, out of breath. Just to my side is the cave’s maw, the raging cyclone of clouds and red flares scant feet away. There’s no way I want to be a part of that, though I get the feeling that was the intention of the push.
Move it, Jack…You have to move!
I’m not sure if that’s my voice or the little man in my head screaming at me. For all I know, I could have yelled it out loud. But, I know the right thing to do when I hear it. Without a pause or a thought to my next move, I bring my carbine around. Still lying on the ground, I send a quick burst toward the nearest robed figured and am satisfied to see the body jerk from the force of rounds hitting it. Lining another body in my sights, I fire and see; the figure vanishes from view.
In the back of mind, I’m fully aware of where Bri is at all times. The last thing I want is for a stray round to hit her. I’m in a much bigger fight than I anticipated, thinking this cabal would just have their robes and maybe a knife or two. And this will all be for naught if one of my bullets strikes her.
Rising to my knees, I move the barrel at a minute angle to catch the next target. I hear another of those shouts and immediately drop stomach-first to the ground. The wave of air passes above me, but I am still pushed along the ground for a couple of feet. The stun of hitting the wall has passed for the most part and I’m able to think more clearly and react better. I’m on my knees as soon as I come to a halt, watching as a red robe is ruffled by the passage of more rounds. The figure falls to the side and twitches.
My brain begins a little math exercise and I realize that I’m not going to have enough rounds in the mag if I keep firing three-round bursts. Flicking the selector switch to semi, I place another round right through the cowl opening of yet another. That’s five down with another seven to go. I’m not even halfway through, and deep down, I feel the bruises from the cliff wall and the scrapes from sliding across the ground.
There are three things I need to avoid at all costs. One is being pushed into the cave. I have this feeling that it won’t go well if I end up in there. Two is being pushed outside of the protective barrier. I’ll be shredded in seconds. Three is hitting Bri. The trajectory of a bullet will be altered when it hits something solid. That’s not really something I can control at the moment, but I’m going to do my damnedest not to let that happen. That means taking angles on the remaining figures and putting myself in a position to minimize the other two occurrences from happening. Moving from the cave entrance will give me the advantage of angles and will keep me away from the cave. But, that will also put me in a position to be tossed through the barrier.
Bri comes first, then the cave. I’ll take two out of three.
I launch to the side as another unified shout comes from those still clustered around the slab. I’m thrown to the side and become a helicopter as the wave hits my lower legs. I hit the ground stomach-first, my chin slamming into the ground. I feel my brain scramble and begin to reboot.
Not…Fucking…Now!
I’m pushed along the ground with my thoughts and the world in chaos. Loud screams fill the air, fill the entirety of my world. On the ground, with my head turned to the side, I’m only aware of the dirt in my line of sight and the lower parts of pale-colored legs just a few feet away. They seem to be engaged in some kind of dance and I wonder if I’m watching some kind of tribal ceremony.
Legs…Pale…That means something…Oh fuck!
I scramble up and away, a little clarity coming back. Not entirely, but enough for me to remember my situation. The seven still alive are all facing me, the ones maintaining the barrier still holding to their original position. I bring my M-4 to bear only to realize that I’m not holding it any longer. Rather than play “search the ground for it,” I draw my 9mm and begin marching forward.
“I’m fucking—“
Bang
“Tired—
Bang
“Of—“
Bang
“This—“
Bang
“Bullshit!”
Bang
Five drop in quick succession, either dead or out for the count. I’m about to take another shot when I feel the air around me compress tightly, halting any further movement. I try moving, but my intentions don’t correspond to my actions. My limbs want to obey, they just aren’t able to.
In a deep baritone voice, one says something to the other in that strange language. I still haven’t observed a single face. The ones on the perimeter with the robes pulled down to their waist are facing away, but they are obviously male. The black-robed ones around the bonfire are an unknown, as are the remaining two in the red robes.
The tone of their chanting seems male, though. The one who spoke turns and walks to pick up the wavy sacrificial blade.
I feel a lessening of the force around me and strain for all I’m worth to move my handgun. It’s like pushing the thickest molasses ever known. I know I’m in a race—it’s apparent what the one with the knife intends to do. I strain, feeling my blood pressure rise and sweat push through my pores. I sense the same tension coming from the one in red who is keeping hold of me. This is a contest of will that I must not lose…I will not.
The barrel slowly pans across the clearing, one interminable inch after another. I bring every reserve of strength I have to bear, reaching perhaps further down than I ever have before. The man raises the knife into the air, holding it in both hands, the blade pointed down at Bri.
Come on you piece of shit! I think, straining.
The man with the knife shouts something to his comrade, who returns a strained answer.
The man holding me comes into sight, just to the side of the barrel. I feel the air around me hardening as our wills clash. The shoulder lines up and I squeeze the trigger. The hammer slides back slowly, the case ejecting in slow motion. Fire comes from the end of the barrel, expanding slowly outward. I’m actually watching the bullet emerge and push forward. Even the retort of the gunshot is delayed and muted, as if I fired underwater. Then, the round exits the compressed bubble around me and rockets out of sight like a spaceship going into warp drive.
The round smacks into the man’s shoulder and he spins to the side. The hold on me is released and I quickly turn to fire at the man standing over Bri. I hit the center of his chest and he crumples, the knife falling from his fingers in mid-thrust. The blade clinks on the stone slab just beside Bri and falls over the side. The one I hit in the shoulder rises, holding his wound, and then tries raising his arms.
“No, no,” I say, aiming my sidearm at him. “You have a choice…die or run.”
I’d rather he run, to be honest, and it has nothing to do with morality. It has to do with the other unwelcome visitors around the clearing. I’m not sure just how long the perimeter folks will stand their guard in light of what’s happened. Their attention may snap over to me, and there goes their barrier. If the robed man runs, then he will hopefully draw off a number of night runners with him, which would give me a greater margin of safety.
I can’t see any expression but do see the cowl dip toward my weapon and then back at me. He looks at the shrieking night runners still enveloping the perimeter.
“It’s the sure death versus a potential one. You choose,” I state, knowing the thoughts that must be passing through his mind.
He’s probably weighing being shot versus being torn apart. But then, there’s always the chance that he’d be able to outrun them and live.
“Very well, then,” I state, bringing my sights into alignment with the cowled head. “I’ll choose.”
The man turns and runs, exiting the shimmering perimeter and disappears out of the firelight, vanishing into the gloom of the woods. The night runners howl as one, their reverberating echoes filling the night air. They take off after the fleeing man, leaving the fading shrieks and the continued chanting to fill the clearing.
I finish off the injured in red before turning to those in the black robes. The crackle of flames rises high, loud pops within the fire shooting sparks into the air. I’m still not sure how entranced they are, but to continue chanting in the midst of the battle that just ensued, they must be drugged or so deep that they’re totally unaware of their surroundings. Which means my priority is now to free my daughter, even if she isn’t my daughter.
I hurt something fierce, and every step feels as if I’m discovering yet another bruised muscle. My head aches like a drum band is practicing within. It’s not only a deep dull throbbing, but carries with it a piercing pain like an ice pick is wedged inside. And, I’m spent beyond measure. I’m not sure I even have the energy to walk to the stone slab, let alone free her.
When I make it to her side, she looks up with her blue eyes. They still hold a measure of fear, but there’s a strength inside as well. I grab her and hold her tight. She may not be the daughter in my world, but I’m her uncle in this one, so situation isn’t completely awkward. Although, she doesn’t really know that, but at the moment, it doesn’t matter.
I’m not sure what to do about the ones still chanting. It could be that their intonations are keeping the barrier up. If I take them out, there’s a chance the shield will come down and we’ll be way fucked. So, as long as they keep to their positions, I’ll leave them alone.
“Thank you,” she says, a faint smile playing across her face.
That alone tells me she has no clue who I am. The other Jack left when she was too young to remember who he was. Or maybe he left before she was born, I don’t really remember what the situation was; my brain is still attempting to unscramble itself.
“Well, Bri, I couldn’t exactly just sit around and let that happen, now could I?” I say, the name coming out without thinking as I knock the pins out of the manacles.
“Wait, how do you know my name? Do I know you?” Bri asks.
“I’m your Uncle Jack. Let’s get you safely back home,” I answer.
It’s my thought that we should wait as long as we can within this boundary, until the sun rises if possible, and then I’ll take her back to Bill and Lynn. Of course, when I left, there was a Bri living there who hadn’t ventured into the hills. So, this could get tricky in a hurry.
“We’re going to wait here until dawn,” I say.
I help lift Bri into a sitting position with my arm around her back. She feels so light. It’s then that I notice she’s kind of fading, becoming more ethereal.
“Bri?”
I see a new life come into her blue eyes, her expression becoming fearful.
“Dad?” she says, reaching out toward me as she fades into a misty outline.
“Bri!”
“Daddy, don’t leave me! I’m scared,” Bri says, her grasping hand going through my body.
“Briii!” I scream “Nooo!”
A quick moment of calm comes across her face. “Dad, you have to go back. I love you!”
She then vanishes and I’m left holding empty air. “Nooo! Please, nooo!”
My vision swims as tears come unannounced. I’ve never felt so fucking empty, except when I lost Nic. I sink to my knees, my head resting where Bri lay just moments ago. My Bri. My beautiful Bri. I begin sobbing while pounding my fists against the stone and the damned unfairness of it all. I had her…right here…I had her and was with her. My precious little angel was right here.
A roar comes from the direction of the cave, instantly bringing me into a heightened state of alertness. The wind picks up, blowing against my back. There’s a dark vortex swirling at the entrance. Dirt is picked up and is sucked into the gaping maw as the wind intensifies. I feel the pull against my body, as if I were being sucked into a black hole. I hunker down behind the far side of the slab, pressing against the stone.
The wind continues to pick up, quickly. Sparks from the flames flow past, a few cinders smacking into the side of the slab and smashing into sparks. A chunk of wood is picked up and slams into the rock near me with a solid thump, embers flying from the impact, before the log is catapulted over the edge and into the abyss beyond. Soon, the air is filled with fiery logs being pulled toward the cave.
“Fuck!” I yell as one slams into my back, coals flying in all directions. The log is pulled up and over the edge to join the others.
Several smash into the stone nearby, orange embers exploding into the air before being sucked along with the rest. Covering my head, I do my best not to be pulled along with them. I catch a quick glimpse of a black-robed figure cartwheeling in the air with the robe’s hem ablaze. Then another passes. I wonder briefly if they’re even aware of what is happening to them. The roar of wind intensifies even further, the chains attached to the sacrificial stone clanking as
they flail like vicious snakes.
Then, it ends as suddenly as it started. The opening among the trees has been cleared of the bonfire and the figures placed around it. Oddly, the ones on the perimeter remain in place as if they’ve grown roots. The ground is smoothed over, all tracks erased. I peek over the edge of the slab to see the swirling black clouds with the red flares of light have returned behind the shimmering wall that covers the entrance to the cave.
A grating, growling sound emanates from deep within the entrance, raising the hairs on my arms and the nape of my neck. I feel a few burns where the embers had momentarily caught my skin, but that goes mostly unnoticed as the shimmer solidifies.
The layer begins to push outward, bowing on one side. Then, the shape of a taloned hand takes form, pushing and scraping against what I now perceive as a barrier. The clawed hand withdraws, and then reappears and pushes harder before vanishing. The barrier over the entrance again becomes opaque.
I should run screaming, but it’s still dark out, and I’d run smack dab into any night runners that might be returning from their hunt of the man in the red robe. However, if whatever is within that fucking cave tears through the barrier, you’ll be able to see my path by the fire trail left under my feet.
The roiling mass of storm clouds grows blacker and denser. From within, two shining green gems appear surrounded by a deep red ring, nothing but malice emanating from them. My stomach is loose and I attempt to control the Jell-O that has suddenly formed there. A maw opens to reveal a fire not unlike the lava pit I was near, then the semblance of a face appears.
The nose is more of snout with long fangs dripping drool that hisses like acid when it falls to the ground. Dark viscous smoke drifts out of the open mouth and from the nostrils. I don’t smell anything, but my brain tells me that it would smell like sulfur should the barrier not be in place. Of course, I’m also sure other very not nice things would happen if that were the case.
