by J M Hemmings
The forest did not only give the shaman strength, though. The living network was also an extension of his eyes, his ears, his nose, his tongue, and his sense of touch, enhancing his senses of perception in ways that not even the most futuristic bionic technology could ever dream of doing for the human mind. This was not a constant flow of information, however; an unending, ever-raging tsunami of data like this would quickly overwhelm and destroy even the stoutest of minds. No, Lightning Bird only dipped his toes into the stormy ocean of information when he needed to, and even then it was only for very short periods. Even after centuries of mental training and conditioning, it was still an almost terrifyingly intense experience to completely link his mind to the gargantuan collective consciousness of the old forest for even a few seconds.
In these dangerous times, though, the network of trees, plants, animals, birds, reptiles, amphibians, insects, arachnids and microbes of which this biome was composed served as a more complete and intricate sentry system than anything that the hands of man could construct, and as overwhelming as it was to commune with this network, it was something that Lightning Bird did regularly in order to keep his friends safe.
Thus, as he drifted through the depths of the woods, a few miles from the cabin, drinking in with serene gratitude the tranquillity of this primeval place, the shaman paused for a moment to drop down onto to his knees. He drew in a deep, calming breath, filling his lungs to their maximum capacity, and as he closed his eyes, focusing his mind and allowing the crisp air to trickle from his lips, he dug his fingertips into the rich, crumbly soil.
He had done this tens of thousands of times before, but even so, the rush of merging his consciousness with that of the forest was as exhilarating as the first time he’d ever succeeded in achieving this sacred union. His every muscle locked up for a brief, terrifying instant, and, as it always did, his heart felt first as if it was about to stop beating, and then, in a fluttery rush, like it would thump wildly out of control, like an unprepared engine injected suddenly with rocket fuel.
The earthy tones of Lightning Bird’s surroundings came at once alive with vibrant, dazzling colour; millions of wispy strands of light, glowing in every conceivable hue were spread out through the soil, through the air, up the trunks of trees and intertwined like thousands of unravelled balls of multicoloured yarn through the foliage of every plant. Some strands were no more than a molecule in diameter, while others were as thick as hawsers, and the lines of the network were composed of every variation in thickness between these extremes. This network of shimmering veins, arteries and capillaries fanned outward to infinity in every direction, and Lightning Bird felt simultaneously as if he was a supreme god presiding over all of creation, and the tiniest, most insignificant microorganism suffocating under the titanic mass of a universe too incomprehensibly vast and complex to even begin to observe.
A mere taste of this intricacy, the tiniest speck of it on a mortal’s fingertip, ingested carelessly, would have been enough to drive even the hardiest of minds to insanity in seconds, but Lightning Bird was no mere mortal. Linking his mind to the collective consciousness of this vast web, he searched the forest, covering square miles in milliseconds and spreading his seeking gaze outward in every direction. He was not seeing, as such, nor feeling, entirely, and nor was he listening or tasting. Rather, he was checking the network for signs of anything amiss; traces of fear, or what in organisms like trees and plants could be translated into something like fear. Only one creature inspired universal fear in every living organism in this forest: man.
Lightning Bird found this fear, and he located it faster than he would have liked or expected. And, he sensed with a rapidly mounting sense of alarm, it was everywhere. With his breathing and heartrate quickening with alarm, he plucked mentally at multiple threads of glowing light, like a many-armed harpist playing a hundred harps simultaneously. Connecting to specific parts of the web in this way, he was able to pinpoint the location of the invaders … and there were hundreds of them, converging from all directions. All walked upon the ancient soil with boots of synthetic material, and all carried weapons of cold steel, its scent tainted with those of acrid gunpowder and slick oil. Delinking himself from the network as quickly as he could – for to do so too rapidly would shatter his mind completely – Lightning Bird severed his mental and spiritual connections with the millions of glowing strands one by one, until finally he was completely free.
He jerked his fingers out of the soil and jumped up, gasping, staggering and lurching on his feet for a few seconds, temporarily disoriented and uncoordinated like a half-anaesthetised patient after the intensity of the experience. He quickly regained control of his senses, though, and turned and sprinted back to the others as fast as he could.
‘Huntsmen!’ he roared as he raced up the dirt track that led to the cabin. ‘Huntsmen, an army of Huntsmen! We must flee, we must flee now! Huntsmen, an army of Huntsmen!’
William, who was reclining on a rocking chair on the porch, absorbed in his novel, was the first to hear the shaman come barrelling up the track, discerning his cries long before the teenagers were able to even hear that anyone was yelling.
‘Oh shit,’ he muttered, dropping his book and springing up out of the chair, the first familiar hints of adrenalin beginning their electric stirrings in his brain. ‘Zakaria! Njinga!’ he roared, dashing into the cabin. ‘We’ve got trouble, big trouble! Huntsmen, lots of ‘em from the sound of it!’
Njinga and Zakaria were busy chopping vegetables for dinner in the kitchen, and as soon as they heard William’s cries they dropped their knives and hurried out to intercept him.
‘What’s going on?!’ Njinga demanded, almost colliding with William in the corridor.
‘Lightning Bird,’ he answered breathlessly, ‘I heard him running towards us, shouting that there was an army of Huntsmen troops on the way!’
‘No!’ Zakaria roared, balling his hands into rocky fists. ‘How?! How could they have found us?! How could they have gotten past our infrared detectors and our motion sensor cameras without setting off any alarms?!’
‘That doesn’t matter,’ Njinga grunted coolly, her face a mask of grim determination. ‘What matters now is getting outta here with our lives.’
‘There are enough assault rifles for everyone,’ Zakaria muttered. ‘William, you distribute them and get the children into position. I’ll start loading the RPGs and mortars.’
Njinga darted out a swift hand and caught Zakaria’s forearm before he could turn and head off.
‘No,’ she said, her tone firm. ‘We ain’t fightin’ our way outta this. Against an army a’ ‘em, we don’t stand a goddamn chance. We have to run, we have to flee while a window for escape, however small, is still open. Once they surround this cabin it’ll all be over, no matter how much a’ a fight we put up.’
‘She’s right,’ William said. ‘If there really is a small army on the way, there’s no way we’re fighting our way free. They’ll have blocked off the dirt track for sure, so we’re not going to be able to take the trucks.’ He paused momentarily as a flash of inspiration flared up; he had always been able to think fast and act quickly in situations of danger and pressure. ‘We just might stand a chance of getting everyone out of here if we use our animal forms, though. We have to go with Plan E, it’s the only realistic option, and this is the exact sort of scenario we set it out for.’
‘William’s right,’ Njinga said.
‘We can’t take anything but what we absolutely need,’ William continued, ‘only passports, cash, papers and credit cards. We can’t carry guns – well, maybe you can, Zakaria, but—’
‘No, we can take guns. The kids can carry a piece each,’ Njinga interjected. ‘I don’t know why we didn’t think a’ that before. The AKs have shoulder straps, at least, an’ we can put holsters on their belts too, an’ that way each a’ ‘em can carry a handgun or two as well, and hook some grenades, maybe a smoke grenade or two as well.’
‘Sure,
sure,’ William said, possessed with a driving urgency of purpose. ‘Hell, if each of ‘em grabs a backpack they can carry a lot more too. Let’s do this, and let’s hurry! I’ll get the documents, cards and money bagged and ready, Zakaria, you grab a couple of guns, grenades and some ammo, and Njinga, you go tell the kids what’s going on and get ‘em ready to run too. We leave in two minutes, no longer. Go!’
‘I only pray that we can make it through the north-eastern gap before the Huntsmen cut us off,’ Zakaria growled.
‘We have to try,’ Njinga said. ‘It’s our only hope. Now no more talk, go, go!’
There was no time to argue or put forward any alternative plans. Escape in their animal forms seemed like the only viable option at this point, so all three raced off in different directions to do what needed to be done.
Njinga sprinted out to the back porch of the cabin where the teenagers were sitting around a table, chatting and playing a card game.
‘Drop the cards,’ she commanded, ‘get your asses up an’ do everything I say, no questions asked, right now!’
‘What—’ Daekwon began, but Njinga darted forward and silenced him with a quick, clipping slap across the back of his head.
‘Dammit Daekwon, I said no questions, dumb-ass! All you need to know is that there’s an army of Huntsmen soldiers closing in on us right the fuck now, an’ we have about two minutes to run, otherwise we all die! Is that clear enough for y’all! Now do what I say! All a’ you, get up, put your shoes on, grab a coat, a change a’ clothes an’ a backpack, an’ fill up a damn water bottle! I don’t know how those scumbags found us but they did, so we have to run now, fuckin’ now!’
When Njinga said this, a rapier thrust of intense guilt impaled Paola; she knew it had to have been her message in the bottle that had led the Huntsmen here. She kept her mouth shut, however, her heart boosting surges of icy blood through her veins as a fluttery feeling of panic scuttling around the region of her diaphragm, and she scrambled to her feet along with the others.
‘Get exactly what I told y’all to get, an’ be back out on the porch here in a minute, not a second longer!’ Njinga yelled.
The urgency in her voice was unmistakable, and the teenagers all understood with terrifying clarity the direness of the situation. They raced off to their rooms and stuffed some clothes into their backpacks, their hearts hammering and their pulses racing, and in less than two minutes all four were back on the porch. There the other beastwalkers were gathered, including Lightning Bird, who had reached the cabin a minute earlier. He was still breathing hard, and a sheen of sweat glistened on his skin, but he was by no means exhausted. The beastwalkers were all dressed only in bathrobes, and each had a plastic pouch, filled with essential documents and cards, fixed around their necks with an elastic strap.
On the floor was an M60 machine gun, complete with a long ammunition belt holding a few hundred rounds, in an ammo feed bag. On the table, on top of the scattered cards, was an assortment of ammunition clips, knives and grenades. Along with these items there were also four bulletproof vests, four combat helmets, and four separate piles of clothing, each belonging to one of the beastwalkers. Zakaria’s thick arms were cradling a small arsenal of weaponry, and he was quick to bark out orders the moment the teens came rushing out of the cabin.
‘All of you, take a bulletproof vest and put it on, and a helmet too! Now!’
The teens had practiced this drill a number of times, so they were able to slip their combat gear on in no time.
‘Next,’ Zakaria barked, ‘everyone grab the following items and put them into your bags: two AK clips, three nine mil clips, three hand grenades, a hunting knife and two smoke grenades. Each of you must also take one of those piles of clothing! Look for your names next to the piles! Do it!’
The teenagers were too frightened and overwhelmed to do anything else, so they hurriedly began stuffing the items they’d been told to take into their backpacks. While they were doing this, Zakaria continued to issue curt orders.
‘When your bag is packed put it on, then take an AK-47 and sling the strap over your shoulder! Take a nine-millimetre pistol and clip the holster onto your belt, clip three grenades onto your belts too, and then stand on the steps!’
The teenagers completed their packing as rapidly as they could, and once they were done, they lined up on the steps, their eyes wide, their nostrils flared, their breathing and heartrates rapid with anxiousness and worry.
‘Well done!’ Zakaria said, his tone softening but remaining firmly authoritative. ‘But that, my young friends, was the easy part. Now we are ready to make our escape. Each of you will ride one of us—’
‘Wait, what?!’ Chloe blurted out. ‘Ride you guys?!’
‘Shut your mouth kid,’ Njinga snapped, silencing the teen. ‘Didn’t you hear what I said before? You do what we say, or we all die. We all die, get it?! Now shut up an’ listen!’
‘Our one chance to slip through the closing net of Huntsmen soldiers,’ Zakaria said, ‘is by cutting through the thickest section of the woods to the north-east at speed, and the only way to do this is in our animal forms. We can each carry one of you; who goes with who has already been worked out, based on your sizes and weights. First, though, we need to do something that might look and feel a little strange to you. We need you to just keep quiet and wait for a few moments. Whatever happens, and no matter how alarming things may seem, don’t worry, you’ll be safe. Now, please don’t say anything, in fact, don’t even move while we do this; we need complete silence.’ He then turned to face Lightning Bird, Njinga and William. ‘Are you ready, my brothers and sister?’
All of them gave him nods of affirmation, and they then arranged themselves in a circle, holding hands. Each of them closed their eyes and drew in deep breaths, filling their lungs to maximum capacity. The teens watched, both anxious and fascinated, as the four adults started to tremble, twitch and shake, moaning, groaning and gasping, as if they were zealots undergoing an exorcism at a Pentecostal church. Then, however, the teenagers began to feel what was happening; it started out as a sensation of static electricity fizzing its electrical tickling over every square inch of their bodies, making every fine hair stand on end, but as the beastwalkers’ trance grew more intense, the sensation became more palpable, and the youngsters felt as if they were standing next to a massive biological transistor, humming with the crackling energy of billions of volts of electricity. Pulses of energy started to flow from the circle of beastwalkers, washing over the teens in waves, which felt almost pleasant at first, but which grew rapidly in intensity to the point at which it felt as if they were being assaulted with some sort of hi-tech ultrasonic weapon that was pulsing its invisible rays through their bodies, twisting and wrenching their internal organs and causing sudden, alarming feelings of crippling nausea, disorientation and reeling dizziness. The teens all doubled over in a collective paroxysm of debilitating panic and paralyzing terror, seized by this ghastly sensation with such furious intensity that they could neither scream nor run. It was like being caught in the throes of some unimaginably powerful hallucinogenic trip, from which their minds desperately wished to flee … but from which no escape was even remotely possible. Never before had any of them felt this kind of unbridled fear; it was as if they’d been taken to the very gates of Hell itself and been given a peek at the indescribable horrors taking place therein.
However, as quickly as it had struck them down, the gripping terror vanished, rushing out into the forest in a rapidly spreading circle like a shock wave from some titanic explosion. After it had passed, the teenagers’ minds returned to a state of relative normalcy, although they were left shaking, with nausea continuing to grip their cores in its acid-coated fingers.
‘Wh-, what the hell was that?!’ Daekwon gasped as he struggled to his feet.
Before anyone could answer this question, the forest started to stir, as if the entire ecosystem had woken from some deep hibernation in a raging panic. Thousands of birds took
sudden, terrified flight, zipping through the air in chaotic patterns, and deer began to crash through the undergrowth, sprinting in aimless dread, as if pursued by an army of ghostly predators. Within a radius of a few miles, a few bears and the odd mountain lion began to flee in panic too, as well as all sorts of smaller mammals.
‘That,’ William said grimly, his forehead and face glistening with a sheen of sweat, as if he’d just run a marathon, ‘was a distraction to confuse the Huntsmen’s thermal imaging scopes. It won’t last long though, so no more questions.’
‘Stand still, all of you,’ Zakaria said to the teens. ‘We’re coming to you.’
As soon as he said this the beastwalkers moved. Lightning Bird stepped in front of Daekwon, William walked over to Chloe, Njinga slipped between them to stand in front of Jun, and Zakaria shifted over to stand by Paola before continuing to speak. ‘We won’t be able to speak to you while we’re in our animal forms, but we will be able to communicate with you in your minds. You can simply speak normally to respond; we’ll be able to hear and understand you. Don’t ask me questions about this; there’s no time. We’re going to transform now; when you climb onto our backs, grip us tightly with your thighs around our flanks, and use both hands to grip fistfuls of fur. Trust me, it won’t hurt as much as getting slammed with Huntsmen bullets. Keep your torsos low, pressed into our backs. We’ll do our best to keep things stable, but I can’t guarantee that it’ll be a comfortable ride. Oh, and keep the safeties of your AKs off! If any of us tells you to shoot someone or something, you pull the trigger immediately, without question – or we all die. One last thing, put your ear plugs in right now. There will be gunfire, and while our ears will heal from the damage of having guns fired next to them, yours won’t, and you’ll be permanently deaf. Hurry, all of you, ear plugs in! There’s more no time to talk; we must change now.’
