by J. Thorn
“Call me ‘Major’,” he said to Samuel.
“Is that a name or a rank?”
Major smiled and shook his head. “You ask too many questions.”
Major placed his knife and sharpening stone on a rock, and the glint of the blade sparkled when it caught the dull glare of the daylight.
“You saved my life,” said Samuel.
Major shrugged.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome . . . er?”
“Samuel.”
“You’re welcome, Samuel.”
Major stood and walked over to Samuel. He slid a rock around and sat facing him.
“What do you remember?” he asked.
“The noose.”
Major’s eyebrows pushed the headband up slightly.
“It didn’t work. I know it was tight on my neck. I don’t remember that, I just know it. Then it was at my feet, and the bruises on my neck turned red.”
“Before that?” asked Major.
Samuel shook his head. “Nothing.”
“Family, friends, work, women?”
Again, Samuel shook his head.
Major whistled and stood. “Haven’t seen many that close that don’t end up with rigor mortis.”
“Close to what?” asked Samuel.
Major waved his hand in the air and bent down to rummage through a rucksack a few feet from the fire pit. He pulled out a plastic jewel case. The cover had four symbols on it, and the spine read “Threefold Law—Revenant.” He tossed the CD to Samuel.
“Know what that is?”
Samuel smiled. “I’m not an idiot. It’s a CD.”
Major snatched it from his hands and tossed it back into the sack. “Personal, not cultural,” he seemed to say more to himself than to Samuel.
Samuel stood and stretched his back. His stomach moaned, and he stepped toward Major. “I can’t remember the last time I ate anything.”
The comment shook Major from a momentary daydream. He pulled the rucksack closed and reached into a blue, plastic shopping bag behind it, grabbing cheese on wheat crackers wrapped in cellophane. He tossed them to Samuel.
“One of the few of those I have left. Might be one of the last ever.”
Samuel ignored the remark as he tore into the snack crackers. The overpowering sting of salt flooded his mouth and overwhelmed his senses. And then, as quickly as it came, the taste disappeared. He chewed what now tasted like dried cardboard.
“At least you got a glimpse, a surge of sensation. Most of the shit I find now doesn’t even give me that much.”
Samuel finished the crackers and immediately recognized how thirsty he had become. He gave no mind to Major’s cryptic remarks.
Major walked to the nearest pine, lifted a twelve gauge shotgun, and laid the barrel over his left shoulder. He loaded a lead pumpkin ball into the chamber and clicked it shut. Major grabbed the rucksack and swung it over his head.
“I’ve gotta go.”
Samuel stared at him.
“I left you a water.”
“Hold on! Where are you going?”
Major ignored the question and strode past Samuel toward the enveloping darkness of the forest. The filtered light retreated downward from the sky, leading Samuel to believe it was nearing dusk.
“What if the wolves return?”
“They will,” said Major. “But not for two or three nights. I wouldn’t linger here for too long, if I were you.”
***
Samuel sat at the base of the tree that had become his refuge from the pack. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. What he recognized as night returned, smothering what remained of the reflected light in the sky. He decided against following Major into the woods. The man must have been here much longer than he had, and it would not be difficult for Major to lose him. And then Samuel thought of the wolves and thought better of venturing into the wilderness on his own.
He reached over to the water bottle Major left and noticed a scrap of paper underneath it. Placing the bottle to the side, he unfolded the note.
Most of the bodies have nothing of value. Scavengers have cleaned them out. The trinkets lying in piles are worthless or don’t work, neither of which will help you. I can’t tell, but I think it’s accelerating. Not at an even pace like a clock, but more like the tides. It moves faster the closer it gets. I’ve seen it before. I’m moving to higher ground. So should you.
Samuel read the note again. It was not addressed to him, and it was not signed by the author. He had to assume Major left it and decided that another confrontation with the pack would not be in his best interest. He shoved his personal items into a pocket, drained the last of the water, and climbed the tree. When the morning glow crested over the horizon, he would follow Major’s trail as far as he could and hope that it would lead to higher ground.
***
Samuel awoke. He had dozed on the branch, but would not go so far as to call it sleep. He felt pain in his hips, and his muscles ached from the slight tension needed to keep him balanced and from falling out of the tree. A thin beam of light appeared on the same horizon after what felt like more than a single night of darkness.
It’s accelerating.
Samuel thought about the phrase in Major’s note, and the fact that the night had felt longer. He shook his head and turned one ear toward the unending forest. Samuel had not heard them baying or seen so much as a falling leaf since Major had left. The silence of the forest again felt suffocating, dead. He slid off the branch and climbed backward down the trunk until his feet landed on the pine needles.
Samuel made the decision to find higher ground regardless of Major’s note, and he walked into the forest in the same direction that Major had, following the man’s first few footsteps. Samuel laughed and remembered tracking a deer in his youth. He smelled the fresh blood and felt the crisp snap of the frigid winter air of days gone by. He stopped, frantic and yet exhilarated. That memory had returned. If it did, others might, as well.
***
He spent the next few hours trudging through the ancient forest, unsure as to whether he was making progress or simply walking in a huge arc. Samuel had not come across his campsite again, so he considered his time as progress. He approached a narrow creek running across the path. The water moved over the low rocks and passed by without so much as a gurgle. The entire stream had fallen silent. Samuel reached into his back pocket and removed the cap from the plastic water bottle left by Major. He dipped the bottle into the water and filled it to the top. Samuel sniffed the water and could not detect an odor, and he poured a drop into his mouth. He swallowed and waited. His stomach did not cramp, and he could not detect anything toxic. He threw the bottle back and drained it three more times.
Samuel continued past the creek until the forest felt as though it tipped upward toward the sky. He knew he was moving to higher ground, even though Major’s trail had disappeared. As he made the ascent, the trees thinned, and the air felt colder. Samuel kept moving to keep warm, exhaling plumes of breath into the forest. Samuel struggled to determine whether it was day or night. He could no longer see the horizon above the trees, only more trees on an ever-increasing slope headed skyward. He leaned on the north side of a tree trunk, resting his legs and lungs. Samuel rubbed his eyes, certain that the structure he just spotted in the distance was a figment of his imagination. He would not be convinced the cabin nestled in the trees was real until he touched it with his own hands.
Chapter 4
Moss-covered shingles clung to the pitched roof. A lonely brick chimney jutted out of the roof at an angle that threatened to pull it over. Weathered, wood shakes covered the front and side, their stain long since dissolved. One lone window sat to the right of the door, a glaze of time covering the glass and giving it an opaque finish. Three steps led up to a door with a single brass knob and no lock.
Samuel came within five feet of the cabin and stopped. He looked over his shoulder, expecting the occupant to arrive and chasti
se him for trespassing.
“Major?” he called out.
No response.
“Major, are you in there?”
The surrounding forest swallowed the sounds like a muffling blanket of snow. Samuel strained to hear noise coming from inside the cabin, but he heard nothing. The rest of the forest remained silent as well.
He took another step closer, scanning the ground for any sign of activity. A long spider web hung diagonally across the top right corner of the door, and other webs clouded the corners of the front window.
Samuel walked to the right, circling around the cabin. The wood shakes covered the other exterior walls, although some had fallen to the ground in clumps of rotted wood. He bent down and sniffed the crumbling shingle, expecting an earthy, organic scent. He caught the slightest hint of mold and nothing more. Coming around the other side and back to the front, he did not find a cistern, privy, or any other evidence of habitation.
He looked up at the gloomy ceiling above and felt as though night was coming again. Though he struggled to find the rhythm of the day, he could not determine whether the night was a few hours off or perhaps minutes away. He saw the leader of the pack in his mind’s eye and decided he was not ready to face the alpha male again. Major said he would be back. Had it been one night or two since the attack? Samuel could not remember, the time becoming stretched and thin like warm taffy.
The front door looked back at Samuel, unmoving and uncaring. He placed a foot on the first step and heard the wood crack under his weight, the first noise registered by his ears in a long while. He felt a tingling in the bottom of his foot that climbed past his ankle, over his knee, and bolted up to his shoulders. He pulled his foot back instinctively, and the electric buzz faded. When Samuel put his foot back on the step, it returned again like a low-voltage electric current. He looked down and his eyes widened. A crisp, brilliant, blue line outlined his foot and extended to the outer edge of the step. The line glowed with an intensity that made Samuel squint. It cut through the drab grayscape of the forest and the dreary sky. The wood beneath Samuel’s foot felt solid, smooth. He became aware of a scent of fresh paint that reminded him of summers spent painting fences in the neighborhood.
Samuel closed his eyes as the memory rushed back.
He sat on the ground in plush, green grass. An aluminum paint tray cradling a puddle of pure-white paint sat next to him, a wood-handled brush resting on the edge. He stared straight ahead at a picket, one half bare, smooth, and sanded while the top half sat glistening with a coat of fresh white.
“Hurry, Sammy. It’s almost time for lunch. If you finish by one, we can head to the pool for the rest of the afternoon.”
“I’m hungry. Whatyer makin’?” asked his ten-year-old self.
“Grilled cheese and yogurt.”
“I’ll be in soon, Mom.”
Samuel opened his eyes, and the childhood memory dissipated like a balloon carried away on the wind. He looked down, and the blue outline flickered. He could see the rotted step fading through the painted one of another time and place. The tingling feeling in his body disappeared until he was left standing with one foot on the step and another on the ground.
The patch of illumination slipped lower in the sky as the darkness pulled it down to force another night. He thought of the wolves again and placed a hand on the doorknob, willing to risk entering the unknown instead of facing the wolves again. He turned the knob and pushed, but the door did not open. The howl of the wolves rose again, as if Samuel’s touch had triggered their bloodlust.
The shudder worked its way through Samuel’s body until it triggered the Major’s words in his head.
They will return.
A cold sweat broke out on Samuel’s forehead, and he felt a rumbling in his bowels. The howling ceased for the moment, but he knew that the next time it broke the unnatural silence, the pack would be much closer. He tried again, his hand gripping the doorknob with white knuckles. Samuel felt like the Arthur of old, trying with all his might to remove Excalibur from the stone. The knob would not move, so he pushed with one shoulder on the front of the door. The lazy spider webs dangled on his head, but the door did not give. He stepped to the side and used the palm of his hand to wipe the pane of the window. The next burst of howling made him shiver. The pack was closer. Much closer.
Samuel backed away from the window, spinning around and conducting a quick survey of the landscape surrounding the cabin. If he used a rock to break the window, the wolves would follow unless there was something inside the cabin he could use to bar it. He shoved his hands into his pockets but found nothing that might gain him access.
The howl that came next froze Samuel. He turned in the direction of the noise and swore that he saw the yellow eyes bouncing between the scant trees of the elevated forest. Samuel placed both hands on the knob and shook as hard as he could. He leaned back, pulling with his body weight. The paws of the wolves rustled the leaves on the forest floor. Samuel looked over his shoulder without releasing his grip. The alpha male was back, and the light in his eyes spoke to Samuel without the need for words.
“Goddamnit, open up!” Samuel screamed at the door.
The alpha male growled low, fifty yards from the cabin. The wolf downshifted from a full sprint to a light gallop, its ears up and fangs bared. The rest of the pack came into the tight clearing in front of the cabin, the other hunters behind the alpha male. The females and cubs remained safely at the edge of the tree line.
Samuel smelled the wet fur, the odor more pungent than any others had been since he fell from the noose. He felt the low, moaning growl emanating from the hungry beasts. They spread out until the cabin was surrounded. He turned and placed his back on the front of the door. Samuel pushed his heels into the wooden step and drew a deep breath.
“I’m not giving in,” he said to the alpha male. “I’m not dying without a fight.”
The alpha male’s ears twitched. He strutted closer to Samuel. The others took tentative steps closer, careful not to infringe on the territory of their leader. The wolf snarled with saliva dangling from his fangs. Samuel bent his knees and leaned forward until his rear pressed on the front of the door, and he raised his hands up to his chest in a defensive position. The alpha male ducked his head and lunged forward. He took two bounds and opened his jaw in midair as Samuel closed his eyes and braced for the impact. At the moment he expected to have teeth tearing at his throat, Samuel fell backward into utter and complete darkness.
***
Speckles of dust hung in the air, dancing on thin strings of light that penetrated the cabin through gaps in the shake. Samuel blinked twice, feeling his eyes burn from lack of moisture. He lifted his head and turned to face the door while his body remained on the floor, his chest against the bare planks. Cobwebs dangled from the corners of the ceiling and stretched from underneath the cracked plaster. A narrow strip of light framed the door, leading Samuel to believe that it was day, or the closest thing to daylight that existed in this world.
An image of the alpha male snapped into place. Samuel closed his eyes and saw the feral, yellow eyes coming at him. He looked into the beast’s empty recesses, not believing such a creature could ever possess a soul. He remembered the teeth, bared and hungry, ready to tear at his flesh. Samuel even recalled the alpha male’s scent, which had overpowered any lingering odor present.
Samuel shook his head and dispelled the memory. He sat up, stood, and surveyed the cabin. A rickety table stood in one corner, the old-fashioned type meant for writing with a quill and inkwell. The wood appeared gray in the darkened room, and Samuel would have been surprised if it looked any different in the full daylight. A wooden chair with a three-rung back sat tucked beneath the tabletop. A rudimentary bunk filled the opposite corner. Two rough-hewn legs extended to the floor on each corner, while the long side tied into the wall. A thin, lumpy pad covered the top of the bunk, which did not hold a pillow or blanket. Like the desk, webs crisscrossed the bunk. The only other
item in the room hung from a single nail protruding from the crown molding.
At first, Samuel thought it was a mirror. Ages of dust covered the surface, which hid the item’s true identity. An ornate, carved frame encapsulated a piece seemingly out of place with the other basic furniture inside the cabin. Samuel approached it and wiped the length of the frame several times until he stood in front of a portrait.
The darkness and age of the portrait made it difficult for Samuel to determine whether it was a painting or a photograph. He could make out the profile of a woman, but not much else. Samuel walked to the desk and pulled the chair out from underneath it. Four dark circles sat on the floor where the dust could not settle. He wondered how many years it would take for the dust to fill those spaces. Samuel placed the chair on the floor in front of the wall and placed his right foot on it. He pushed down, and other than a slight creak of the floorboard underneath, the chair felt sturdy. Standing on it brought him eye level with the fastener and cable holding the portrait on the wall. He reached out and lifted the cable off the nail until the full weight of the portrait rested in both hands, and he stepped back down to the ground. Something flickered deep within the recesses of his mind. Something stirred. Something familiar and yet just beyond his reach. Samuel walked toward the lone window, and the ambient glow of the anemic sun filtered through the grime. He wiped off more of the age covering the portrait until his eyes met those in the photograph—the eyes he knew almost as well as his own.
***
The woman in the photograph stood, positioned in the lower-right corner of the frame. Dark, long curls spilled about her shoulders and rested on her arms. She wore a black top, which, combined with her dark hair, framed a pristine, youthful face. She wore makeup and eyeliner in a way that made her look trendy and hip rather than cheap. Ruby lips pressed together into a thin smile that radiated warmth and good-natured teasing. But it was her eyes that ensnared Samuel the way they had many years earlier. The woman’s green eyes called to him, made him forget his name. They sat evenly spread on her face, and the eyeliner around them accentuated the contrast between her porcelain skin and emerald irises. Samuel used his finger to draw a trail of dust from her cheekbones to her neck, as if he would somehow feel the warmth of her skin under his touch. He smiled and looked to her long, thin fingers cradled around a set of keys. With her head tilted to the side, he could almost remember what she had been saying when the photograph had been taken. Almost.
