Into The Darkness

by Doug Kelly

  “It’s me! It’s me! Don’t shoot!” yelled Dylan.

  “What the hell is going on? Why are you standing out there with your bow?” asked Kevin.

  Dylan looked at Richard’s raft and saw him peeking from under the tarp. “It’s safe to come out, Richard. I shot a deer, a big deer, so get out and look.”

  Richard got up and Kevin put the pistol back in his raft. The men walked over to the deer, now dead and lying on its side.

  “What are we going to do with this monster?” asked Richard, as he was running the palms of his hands down the length of the dead animal.

  “Let’s gut it right here,” said Dylan. “I’ll need you to help me hang it from the irrigation pipes to bleed it the rest of the night. When it’s daylight, we’ll eat as much as we can and try to make jerky with the rest.”

  Richard woke Dylan at daybreak, shaking him lightly on the shoulder. “Hey…wake up…wake up….let’s get this going. I’m starving again, and so is Kevin.”

  Dylan opened one eye, stared at Richard, and then spoke sarcastically. “Oh, hello Richard. I thought I should let you know something. The past couple of weeks have been somewhat rough for me. I think the civilized world has come to a screeching halt and I was about a thousand miles away from my family when the world decided for that to happen. I’ve been floating myself down a river to get back to my family and I’ve had to kill people to stay alive. What was so important you needed to wake me up after I spent the good portion of the night killing and gutting a large deer for all of us to eat?”

  “Nothing.” Richard sulked his way back down to the campfire.

  After a few moments, Dylan realized he should not have been so angry with Richard. They were all in this bad situation together and needed to practice patience and cooperation. He decided to walk over to the camp and apologize. Near the fire, he saw his companions creating flat racks out of green sticks. His curiosity made him forget to apologize to Richard.

  “What’s that?” asked Dylan, pointing at the grid of green sticks.

  “Drying racks for the deer meat. It was Richard’s idea.”

  Dylan felt slightly embarrassed, since he had berated Richard just moments before. “That’s a good idea, Richard. I’ll go quarter the deer. We need to get started on this project.” Dylan turned away and walked a few steps. He stopped abruptly and turned back. “Hey, Richard, I’m sorry about what I said this morning. It’s just that I’m all beat to Hell and you caught me at a bad moment.”

  Richard was binding more sticks together, using a vine. He never looked up. He just smiled, nodded his head, and waved Dylan on.

  The men spent the entire day processing the deer meat. The Montana air was extremely dry and the campfire helped to accelerate the process. While the meat dried, the men cooked some of the venison for a meal and ate beans with it. They ate all day long. Dylan wandered a little further away than he had the day before, and came back with a shirt full of chokecherries. They ate several handfuls and saved what remained to dry in the sunlight.

  By nightfall, they had processed nearly one hundred pounds of the deer meat. It had dried to a significantly lighter weight and the sliced meat was less than half its original size. They stuffed the pillowcases from the hotel, which had carried stale bread, full of soybeans and dried deer meat. The meat would continue to dry in the arid Montana climate.

  Dylan wanted to get started downstream early that morning. He noticed a road that crossed the river and a recreation area close together on the map. If that meant people, he wanted to see it in the daytime to assess the threat. The men rode the current again, their rafts filled with drying deer meat, soybeans, chokecherries, and the few remaining MREs that Sergeant Haber hadn’t stolen from them.

  The morning sun was in their eyes as they began to float downstream again. Dylan and Richard occasionally traded positions in order to take turns paddling with the current. As it rose higher in the sky, the sun warmed the morning air, and by the time it was at their backs, they saw the road that crossed the river just ahead. Large concrete pillars supported the bridge. Beside the road, a clearing became visible. There were recreational vehicles parked there, and they could see smoke from a campfire. Dylan wanted to quietly float past the area, hide the rafts downstream, and then walk back to where the RVs were to have a look around. If confronted, they would lie about having rafts and say they were walking the road.

  They went ashore just downstream of the bridge at a spot where there was enough shrubbery to conceal the rafts. Dylan and Kevin strung their bows. Kevin tucked the pistol under his shirt.

  “What are we doing here?” asked Richard. “Wouldn’t it be safer to avoid people?”

  “I didn’t see anybody,” replied Dylan. After he spoke, Dylan remembered the smoke from the campfire they had just seen, and admitted to himself that had to be from someone. “I want to get a feel for how things are going around us. Maybe we can get a lead on Sergeant Haber, too.”

  The men carefully walked toward the bridge. They very cautiously checked out their surroundings. From the road, they glanced back to where they hid the rafts. They had concealed the rafts well, so they continued their advance toward the RVs.

  Dylan yelled, “Anybody here?” There was no reply.

  The men walked around the RVs. There were twelve of them. They knocked on a few doors with no response, then walked toward the smoky fire in the pit. Dylan thought someone was there. He sat down at a picnic table and stared toward the RVs. Just as Kevin and Richard began to eat some jerky, Dylan noticed the drapes in one RV move slightly. He whispered to the men what he had seen. Kevin slowly moved his hand under the table and removed the pistol from his belt, but still kept it hidden from view.

  Dylan stood up and called out again, making it obvious to which RV he was yelling. “Anybody here? We don’t want any trouble. We’re just passing through.”

  Someone yelled through the draped window screen, “Go away.”

  Dylan placed his bow on the table and lifted his hands in the air. He walked closer to the RV. “Hello. We don’t want trouble.” He held his hands higher. “See…no weapons.”

  “Do you have any food?” the voice asked, in a desperate tone.

  “Yes, we have some deer jerky. We can give you a piece,” Dylan replied.

  The door to the RV slowly opened. A middle-aged man apprehensively looked out the door at the men, then scanned around suspiciously for others. Dylan put his hands down and walked back toward the picnic table, motioning for the frail looking man to join him. Kevin and Richard stopped eating the jerky and placed their shares in front of them on the picnic table. The man stood next to the table and gawked at the food with wide, hypnotized eyes. He was desperate with hunger.

  Dylan spoke to the man as he pointed to the deer jerky. “Go ahead. You look like you’re starving.”

  The man leaned forward, reaching for the food. As he was about to grab the jerky in front of Kevin, he gasped and jumped backwards. Through the slatted top of the picnic table, the man had seen that Kevin was holding a pistol. He started to shake and held his hands up. Kevin realized what had happened and quickly apologized to the man. He explained that they had seen some bad people on their journey and only used the gun for protection. Kevin tucked the pistol back into his pants and the man grabbed the food, eating it ravenously.

  “I haven’t eaten for days. All of us here were low on food, then what little we had was stolen from us.”

  “What happened?” Richard asked.

  “Everything stopped working here at the campsite. We couldn’t make a call for help. Everyone pooled their food together and we rationed it out. Some of us went fishing and that helped. If we needed water, we just boiled it on the fire. That’s what I was getting ready to do when you stopped by.” The man paused and stared at the fire. He appeared weak from hunger.

  “You said the food was stolen?” prompted Richard.

  The man rubbed his hands down his face and tried to wet his dry lips. “Some gu
y walked up on us like you just did, two days ago. He said he didn’t want any trouble and he was wearing camouflage pants just like you guys. Everyone told him they didn’t have enough to share and he walked away. But then he came back with a rifle, like a military rifle, and pointed it at us, telling us to give him our food. One man tried to jump him, but he got shot right in the head. It didn’t even bother that bastard to shoot somebody in cold blood. He grabbed our food, put it into his rain poncho, and took off.”

  The man pointed toward a large oak tree. “We buried the dead guy there. All the others left yesterday. They said they couldn’t take it here anymore and were going to walk for help. I’ve got asthma and will run out of medication in a few days. There’s no way I could make a trip like that, so here I am, starving to death.” The man looked up at Dylan with distant, glazed eyes. “Do you think they will come back for me?”

  “Sure, just give it some time.” Dylan put his hand on the man’s shoulder. “Would anybody care if we slept here tonight?”

  “It doesn’t matter. They’re all gone.”

  The man went back to his RV. Dylan told them they should wrap all their food in a tarp and string it up in a tree so animals would not get it. They hid the food and came back with fishing equipment. Dylan went to the big shade tree and began to pick up acorns. Then while Richard boiled the acorns, Dylan scavenged for something green to eat. The grassland nearby had many dandelions. Dylan brought back an armful for supper. Kevin stopped fishing at four catfish and set the lines for the night. They tapped on the door of the RV and invited the man to join them for their evening meal. He hastily agreed, and ate hungrily. Dylan let him know that acorns and dandelions were edible and pointed out that he was right next to a large oak tree. The man thanked him for the information and told them to pick any RV for the night, then returned to his camper.

  “Let’s take the big one,” said Kevin.

  “Keep your eyes open for anything we can use,” said Dylan.

  The men entered the large RV.

  “Sleeping in a bed, now that’s going to be a change,” said Dylan. “I have slept on the ground every night, except the night in the deer stand, since that asshole stole my raft.”

  Kevin picked a bed in the rear and reclined on it, putting his hands behind his head. “I could fall sleep right now.”

  “Guys, you have to see this! It’s a shower and it works,” Richard yelled from the bathroom.

  “Hey, shut it off. I’ll climb on top to see how much water is left in the tank,” said Kevin.

  Kevin went outside to find the water level gauge.

  Dylan grinned at the prospect of being clean. “Maybe we could take a quick shower and wash these clothes.” Dylan turned to look in the bathroom mirror. He did not recognize the man staring back at him. The sun had burned his skin red. He had greasy hair and a short beard. The man in the mirror looked like any of the homeless people he would routinely see, and ignore, in the downtown area by his office building.

  Kevin shouted from outside, “Fifty gallons. Let’s get busy.”

  Each man took his dirty clothes into the shower with him. They washed the dirt and smell of the river off their bodies, and then rinsed the filth out of their clothes. They hung the wet clothes on a makeshift clothesline inside the RV. Wrapped in blankets on their beds, the men woke to dry clothes in the morning. They knew their cleanliness would be short lived, but it was a pleasant change.

  When Dylan awoke, he noticed that he was the last to rise. His eyes scanned the inside of the RV for anything useful. He opened every cabinet and carefully took note of any item that could help their journey. He put a fillet knife, cooking spices, and a package of lighters in a large stainless steel pot and wrapped that in several blankets. That was all he would take. The cooking spices would add some flavor to the bland food.

  Dylan joined the men sitting at the picnic table and put the newly acquired bundle of items at his side. “Let’s give this man the fish we caught overnight and get on our way. I want to get an early start. He needs the fish more than we do.”

  The man was pleased to have acquired three large catfish from his unexpected meeting with the strangers. There was a polite wave goodbye and informal thanks from the men as they left the campground. When they were far enough away that the man couldn’t hear him speak, Dylan said, “He’ll be dead in a week.”

  They pulled the rafts free from the shrubbery and lowered the food from the tree limb, then rearranged the supplies for better balance in the rafts and prepared to enter the river.

  “The map has another campground about a day away. We could probably be there tomorrow morning. What do you think it’ll be like?” Kevin asked. “Could it get worse than what we just saw?”

  “I think it’ll get worse every day,” replied Dylan. “That man back there is going to starve to death and his friends will most likely die on the road looking for help.” Dylan jumped into the raft and held it close to shore by clinging to a small tree hanging over the river. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter Nine

  The morning air was cool and the current was swift. They did not need to paddle much because the current was doing most of the work as they went downstream. It felt good to be in clean clothes and just floating for a change. They ate deer jerky, beans, and some partially dried chokecherries as they floated along, and later they stopped to filter water near a steep dirt embankment. Dylan got the river-cane arrows from the raft and decided it would be wise to practice shooting the bow on a regular basis. Kevin and Richard joined him. They practiced at a distance from which someone could reasonably expect to get a squirrel or rabbit. The cane arrows still had no sharp tips, just blunt ends that could stun a small animal.

  Several more hours downstream, they found an ideal location to set up camp for the night. The riverbank was gravelly with a slight slope and there were enough trees around to supply wood for a campfire. They pulled the rafts out of the water, and began to set up camp.

  Richard walked over to some large rocks that created a fire ring and noticed something strange. “Hey, look at this,” Richard announced. He pointed to where he was going to build a fire. “Don’t you think that’s weird?”

  Kevin poked at the ashes with a stick. “They’re fresh.”

  “Who would want to build a fire here?” Richard asked.

  “Someone floating downstream, and I bet we know who it is,” said Dylan. “He must be moving slow, because we’re closing in on him.” He squinted his eyes and surveyed the horizon. Then he mumbled to himself, “Wait ‘till we meet again, asshole.”

  Early the next morning Dylan found some wild greens to go with the catfish that Kevin caught overnight, and they used some of the new spices with their breakfast.

  “If I am judging the distance correctly, we’ll make it to the next bridge and campsite this morning,” said Dylan. “Let’s stop before we get to it, and be extra cautious. There’s someone out there we should try to avoid.”

  The men continued their journey, staying close to the riverbank and keeping their speed down. They did not want to travel fast today. Going slower would help them keep a safer distance from obstacles and dangers in their path. It was not long before they saw, in the distance, another concrete bridge spanning the river. They hugged the riverbank and Dylan signaled for Kevin to get the binoculars out of the backpack. They floated a little further down, but the steep terrain and trees blocked the view. Trees were plentiful around the perimeter of the RV park. The men found a location on the same side of the river as the campground, and went ashore. They hid the rafts, as usual, and then moved to higher ground. They would feel more secure if they observed the area before they passed it or decided to make contact. The tree line stopped at the top of the slope overlooking the campsite. At this distance, they would need the binoculars to get a good view of the roadside campground. Kevin scanned the park with the binoculars.

  “See anything?” asked Dylan.

  “Maybe ten or twelve people. That’s just
a guess. They’re walking around the RVs. There are a few children down there, too.” Kevin changed his position and adjusted the focus of the binoculars. “That’s weird. They all seem to be looking in the same direction, toward the river.” Kevin lowered the binoculars and handed them to Dylan.