From across the lake suddenly floated the strains of Beethoven’s Ode To Joy (Vocal) from Symphony No. 9 in D-Minor. The song echoed loudly across the lake’s surface, and the valley’s natural acoustics enhanced the sound nicely.They all stared in disbelief at the man sitting on his porch, waving.
“Yeah, that does it. You aren’t going—that fucker’s completely lost it.”
“Peter, please, I have to go. If there’s the slightest chance of saving our men, then we have to explore it.”
“At the price of your life? Never! No matter what my feelings are for Kevin, he would never let you risk your life for his!”
“Kevin isn’t here now, is he, Peter? And then there’s Robert.”
No one said a word. The darkness started to creep up on them as the music changed: The Last of the Mohicans. The Gael. Royal Scots Dragoon Guards. The Promontory Main Theme.
“He sure knows how to put on a dramatic show for you, now don’t he?”
Peter looked at Christina. He stood up and placed both his hands on her shoulders, looking down at her; and she looked back with neither hesitation nor fear in her eyes. His own eyes watered as he nodded. “Time to earn your Oscar, kiddo. Get going.”
They watched as Christina removed her jacket and dropped it on the ground, together with the rifle case. Sammy handed her his knife. “For the ropes…or the madman. Your choice.”
Christina gave him a shy smile.
With Lt. Colonel George Armstrong Custer’s rifle in hand, she headed towards the house in the far distance. A horn sounded, and all the wolves took off into the woods. The man they knew as Ted Hagglund was no longer on his porch, but the music kept playing: Clannad’s I will Find You. Love Theme from Last of the Mohicans.
Christina disappeared over a rise, and they held their breath, looking for her to reappear. “Look, there she is, she’s back! Wait, the wolves are back too,” Sammy shouted desperately.
“Fuck this, let me see.”
Peter took the binoculars away from Sammy and looked down into the valley. Christina was walking straight towards the lake, and following behind her were what looked like over a hundred wolves, keeping their distance. Their leader was a gigantic black beast. Peter gave back the binoculars to Sammy, who handed them to Adrianna.
“She got some big cojones on her, don’t she,” the other woman muttered.
“Tom, it’s me. Key on my phone’s GPS coordinates. Send in the cavalry.” Sammy and Adrianna both turned their heads sharply, looking at Peter as he pocketed his phone and picked up his rifle. “The wolves are down there where Christina is,” he explained, “and I’m going to join her.”
No more words needed to be said. The three of them began to trek toward Christina. They had to support each other due to their injuries at times, but not one of them ever complained. Soon the full moon had risen above the horizon, and the wolves began their eerie song.
Christina walked as fast as she dared through the lovingly tended, deadly landscape. It reminded her of an enormous botanical garden. The darkness came swiftly here in the mountains, and so did the full moon. The lighting was adequate for her needs, though she could have done without the howling. She couldn’t explain where she got her confidence from, but strangely enough, she wasn’t afraid—not even when she heard the panting of the monsters behind her. Ted wouldn’t allow them to hurt her; of that she was certain. She glanced behind her and saw a giant of a wolf, a darker blot in the night, gleaming yellow eyes focusing on her.
She hastened her steps.
Christina soon reached the edge of the lake, and realized it would be a very long walk going around it from either side. She headed away from the waterfall side; and as she did, she noticed something shiny under the surface. She moved closer to the water’s edge, and she saw a rock just beneath the surface. Another lay beyond it, and others beyond that one. Someone had created a path across the lake. She moved carefully, checking to see if the rocks were slippery; they were, but not too bad, thanks to her boots. She started to walk, and with every step she grew more confident. When she reached halfway, she dared to turn her head, and saw that the wolves had stopped at the edge of the water.
“Pussies! Don’t like to get your feet wet, huh?” she snickered, and then she slipped and fell on her ass.
She considered her own situation in disbelief, and then she started laughing at herself and her own clumsiness. She got up and looked towards the hill with the rocky circle, but couldn’t make out her friends standing there; it was too dark. She turned and continued walking towards the log cabin, and as she approached, she realized it was actually a very large house.
* * * * *
“GREAT, NOW she walks on water. What else is she going to do? Yep, she fell on her ass.” Peter handed the binoculars back to Sammy and continued, “She’s so small, and still the clumsiest girl I’ve ever met.”
“She’s like family, isn’t she?” Adrianna asked, already knowing the answer.
“That and more, and I guess after this round of sight-seeing, you two are, too.”
Sammy and Adrianna nodded, and continued following after Christina. “So, Peter, did it ever occur you should have called in the backup before the fucking wolves attacked us?”
“What would be the sport in that, Adrianna?”
“SPORT? Are you insane?”
“Maybe,” Peter admitted.
Nero stood on a cliff looking down at his house as the smoke started to build up. He held a torch in his hand, and the fire reflected onto his face. He wore his final skin; The Coyote. The head gear was made from a coyote’s head, and his great-grandfather had worn it at the battle of Little Big Horn. It included no armor, like his bearskin exoskeleton had. Instead, he wore old-style buffalo trousers and moccasins, and around his neck and shoulder hung a centuries-old Viking horn. His weapons were two axes, one long and one short, also dating from the Viking era; the blades were very old, but as sharp as they had been when made ages ago. They were both beautifully engraved, and many museum would have paid a mint to have them. The shafts were newer than the blades, of course, but they also had beautiful inscriptions and patterns, including sigils from six Indian nations and runic letters from Scandinavia.
Patiently, he waited for the love of his life.
Christina smelled the smoke before she saw it, and she started running across the bridge of stepping stones; and of course she fell on her ass twice more. But that only pissed her off and urged her on. When she finally reached the other side of the lake, she tore off part of her shirt, and suddenly she wore a muscle shirt showing off her midriff. She dunked the torn part into the water, and tied it around her face before running straight towards the house.
More smoke was building up, and now she could see the naked flames. The music had stopped. She shouted for Robert and Kevin, but there was no answer. She held her rifle at the ready as she entered the lodge. It was snug and well-built inside. She tried to shout their names again, only to choke on the thick smoke. She made it into the kitchen and saw the door to the basement; it was open, and lights shone from below. She slowly descended the stairs and let out a whoop of joy when she found Robert and Kevin trussed up like hogs, lying on the floor unconscious.
Christina removed the smoke filter from her mouth, as there was less smoke down here. She shouted both men’s names, but got no response. Drugged, then. She hustled over to a sink and grabbed a bucket to the side, filled it with water, and then showered the sleeping beauties until they decided to wake up. It took a while. She used the knife to cut them free, as both stared at her, dazed and confused. As she was about to toss a third bucket on them, Kevin held up his hand for her not to. “That’s okay, kid, I think we’re awake now. What took you so long?”
“No time to explain, but we have to get going. The place is on fire. You guys better be able to walk, because I sure as hell won’t be carrying you.”
“Wait Robert, don’t stand up just yet. Massage your ankles and wrists, or you’ll only end up s
training or breaking them,” Kevin warned.
Suddenly Christina was a masseuse, rubbing Roberts’s ankles franticly.
“Guess I’ll do my own by myself,” Kevin muttered. Few minutes later, he stumbled to the door letting out into the next room, where Nero repaired his second skin. He placed his hand on the door and immediately pulled it away. “Can’t go that way, door’s too hot,” he reported. “We open it and we’ll get cooked.”
Robert said, “Guess we have to go upstairs. Christina, please grab those blankets over there and get them wet. We’ll use them for cover against the flames.”
Draped in wet blankets, they struggled upstairs and found that most of the interior was ablaze now. The only way out was through the dining room, which led to a large grand room. By then, burning debris was falling from the ceiling. Christina suddenly stopped, while the guys hurried towards a door. There was a strange painting in a frame that drew her attention—a drawing with many pictures superimposed atop a large map. On one of the bigger pictures was old lettering: Roanoke Colony established 1585; Croatoan 1590. There was an old colony fortress in the center, and all around the main drawing were miniature pictures displaying a history of some sort, where people were fighting large animals like bears, wolves, and panthers.
“What the hell are you doing! This is no time to admire the artwork!” Robert shouted at Christina.
“But wait, wait—that word, Croatoan! He said that to me, wait!”
Robert would have none of it, tossing her over his shoulder when Christina reached for the painting on the wall. Robert followed Kevin outside onto the large wraparound porch. They got clear and huddled in front of the house, away from the lake side, where the main entrance was. All of them fell onto a nicely mowed grass lawn, coughing and gathering their strength.
Nero watched them from far above on his cliff. Smiling, he walked over to a thick rope and attacked it with his shorter ax. When the rope was sliced through, a large rock teetered and tumbled down the slope, starting a domino effect and opening up several gashes in the side of the mountain. Out poured oil, mixed with gasoline and detergent. It ran like small rivers in multiple directions, soon surrounding his home in an enormous circle of homemade napalm. Face now solemn, he lit a torch, then tossed it onto the flowing fuel.
The flames spread fast, sprinting along the circle in a wall of fire until it looked as if the entire mountain was burning, with several other bright snakes crawling through the landscape. He lifted his Viking horn and blew a long blast, then howled loudly, wolf-like. His call was answered by over a hundred other wolves, which hurried across the lake on the stepping-stone bridge, coming to their alpha’s aid.
As he watched and waited, Nero ate some special dried mushrooms, and finished them off with a large wooden cup full of sweet, warm mead, made with an ancestral recipe and aged to perfection for several years. He descended from the cliff, and landed between Christina, Robert, and Kevin. Behind him was the road to safety.
“Now, my love, come and earn your Cro. There can only be one Alpha,” he crooned.
Nero swung his axes dangerously while dancing in circles. The wolves kept their distance, staying clear of the fire, though it did not frighten them at all. Nero did.
Suddenly, the ground started to tremble, and the sound of many horses’ hooves and wild shouts came soaring down into the valley. Nero looked up, confused. Hundreds of riders charged the clearing, many firing weapons into the air.
“Hey, lover boy,” Christina taunted.
Furious, Nero turned and stared at the .50 rifle pointing at him. He sneered, “Go ahead, love, fire that weapon, and my pets will devour all of you. Now what?”
Christina tilted her head, looking at Nero. Robert and Kevin watched nervously, glancing frequently at the wolves waiting on the other side of the firewall. “Ever seen any of the Indiana Jones movies?” she asked Nero.
“Hey, didn’t you hear him? You fire and we’re done for,” Kevin murmured.
“Trust me on this one, Kev.”
Christina fired one round, striking Nero in his right leg. He hit the ground like a rock.
“Come on, let’s go,” Christina ordered, and started backing away carefully from Nero and the wolves. Robert and Kevin followed.
The giant black wolf stood between them and freedom. First it glared at them; then it ignored them, eyes focused on the injured Alpha on the ground, breathing raggedly. It sensed that it was weak, and the Alpha could not be weak. There could only be one Alpha, and it must be the strongest.
Taking a .50 bullet to the leg at close range guarantees that the leg will be lost. The hydrostatic shock was enough to nearly kill Nero. He barely clung to consciousness, barely believing that she had pulled the trigger.
Christina and her friends broke into a sprint, passing through the thinnest part of the inferno, gaining a few more nasty burns and patting out clothing that had caught fire; and the last thing they heard over the crackle of the flames was Nero’s weak scream before the wolf tore his throat out.
A few wolves decided to follow them. One leaped onto Robert’s back, and he hit the ground as Christina tried to club it away with the rifle butt. But suddenly a black shadow and a brown one flew through the air: Hunter and Nugget, both at least the size of their feral cousin, tore into the beast viciously; and from behind charged hundreds of riders, firing at the wolves, screaming and shouting wildly. They appeared to be Native Americans, some wearing tribal police uniforms.
Frank rode up and extended his hand to Christina; and soon Malik, Takoda, Whitney, and many more familiar faces had shown up. Sitting behind three of the riders were Peter, Adrianna, and Sammy. From the air descended a handful of helicopters with spotlights. The black wolf, now the pack’s new Alpha, led the surviving pack members back into the dark forest, running flat out, to escape to fight another day.
Hundreds of people had gathered in a large mesa on top of a bluff. The area was surrounded by forest and fields; the night sky was clear, and there were no clouds. Most of the snow had melted, but everyone knew that soon, true winter would come, altering the scene. A cold wind blew in from the north. In the far distance came the sound of wolves howling.
Several fires burned, and natives danced and sang about the end of the Yee Naaldlooshii: The Skinwalker, an old Navajo folk tale that other tribes had also adopted.
Lights flashing from emergency vehicles spoiled the effect. A tent camp had been erected; several RVs were parked in one area, and behind them on an adjacent field were five helicopters. One stood out, larger and gleaming, corporate rather than utilitarian.
A line of people stood by a few truck tailgates, being served food; the savor aroma of outdoor cooking lay like a blanket over the area.
"And when Daniela walked over to confirm that Blake was really dead, she removed the blanket Pat had placed over him, and suddenly the corpse sat up," Whitney reported.
“Blake! He’s alive?” Robert shouted, leaping to his feet.
“Wait, there’s more. Instead of penetrating his forehead, the bullet hit at just the right angle to be deflected around the skull before it exited over his ear. It happens sometimes; I saw it once in the service. They call it a ‘flexible bullet.’ But what with all the blood, we thought he was dead.”
“Well, that’s great,” Sammy said, as paramedics forced him back onto a stretcher.
“Tell that to Daniela. I think her professional pride got hit a bit hard.”
“What happened next?” Peter wanted to know; he too lay on a stretcher, next to Adrianna, who was fighting Takoda over her hand cannon.
“Silly girl!” shouted the Lakota man. “You have to turn it in, you hear me?” Takoda finally stripped her of her gun, as she responded by insulting both him and his parentage.
Takoda turned to the crowd, holding the gun in his hand. “Malik and I followed the paramedics after we heard the call on the radio, suspecting something. Most of the Feds and military thought the ordeal was over, but we didn’t. As a mat
ter of fact, they still think it was a terrorist group behind everything.”
“Idiots.” Malik stepped up, drinking coffee from a huge mug. “When we heard what had happened at the hiking camp, I called Frank and begged him to bring that brown dog of his. Once I mentioned Christina, he and Claire got in their RV and we used it for a mobile HQ. We all knew we’d over stepped our boundaries when we left the state, but I guess that’ll be something we’ll have to deal with in the near future.”
“Don’t worry. If you need an attorney, you got one,” Tom Billing said calmly.
They all laughed.
Takoda continued, “When we realized that you guys were near the rez, I called for help, avoiding all the red tape, but the problem was that this entire region has been taboo for centuries. No one ever ventured into those forests over there.” He pointed at the dark forest in the distance, where a fire could be seen as what remained of Nero’s home continued to burn. Helicopters kept flying over it, and lights from several emergency vehicles flashed nearby.
“Eventually, the tribal elders agreed to muster the local police and militia from the reservation, but for what it’s worth it wasn’t easy. We keep our traditions tight up here.”
Malik continued, “So far, the CSI and the police have found several sets of human remains, mostly skeletal, over by the wolf den, but they can’t do any more work there until daylight. Too dangerous right now.”
Takoda turned, facing Tom. “So where are your goddaughters? My people want to thank them both.”
“Tammy is in Skull Creek with Blake, and as for Christina, I think she’s over at Frank and Claire’s RV.”
* * * * *
CHRISTINA HUNG up the phone, smiling, knowing that both Tammy and Blake would be fine. She then put on a more serious expression as she read from the computer screen; “The Roanoke Colony, also known as the Lost Colony. Established in 1585, abandoned before August 1590. The colonists disappeared during the Anglo-Spanish War. There is no conclusive evidence as to what happened to the colonists.”
The Lumberjack Page 37
