by Dan Henk
Finally, the sun started to rise. Not yet visible, its coming was evidenced by the slowly bluing sky. I switched off my KC lights. The trail ahead narrowed into a rocky crevice, a narrow passage hewn out of the rock walls by millennia of long since dissipated water. It was nothing I couldn’t pass through, but the narrow valley and large rocks meant I would have to slow my pace to a crawl. At five miles an hour I rumbled forward, the leaf springs creaking as they compressed and decompressed. The whole thing was like a concave rut. I scuttled down slippery rocks, the Jeep tipping perilously to and fro. The Jeep leveled out briefly, and then started a slight ascent, the tires grinding and slipping over uneven boulders. Good thing I installed a locker in the rear. A little added insurance. I also had a winch on the front, just in case. I lumbered up the other side, the trail finally opening up into a more stable dirt path.
A little farther through the woods, and I could see another road just a few feet ahead. I didn’t really have time to slow my pace. Hopefully I was far enough away from the base to be written off by any onlookers as someone doing some off-roading. I was sure they would put it all together at some point, but by then it would be far too late. Then again, if this were state owned, they wouldn’t want me here after dark. The trees parted, and I bounced out onto the shoulder of the road. I stomped on the brakes and scanned right and left. This was getting strange. There was nothing but a long, flat roadway extending in both directions—double lanes, and perfectly visible with my amplification of the pre-dawn light. Apart from the slight mist wafting upwards at the far edges of the roads, nothing moving. I leaned out the left-hand side and peered up into a dark sky, just starting to metamorphose from black to blue. Stars shone brightly, some twinkling, hinting at some deeper mystery. But that was it. I concentrated on listening. Some mammal burrowed in the dirt, several squirrels scampered up trees, branches whispered softly in the wind. Nothing human. I didn’t like this at all. I pushed down on the gas and powered forward. I sped across the highway and climbed back up onto the trail.
What is waiting for me? I can’t even plan what to do about it if I don’t know. The Jeep bounced back and forth as the trail grew courser, but my mind was elsewhere, racing through the possibilities. I heard a distant sound, and my concentration was wrenched back to the present. It was a helicopter. I could hear the blades cutting the air and the high, thin whine of the motor. It approached. Suddenly, shafts of brilliance intersected the trail in front of me. I pushed the headlight lever in. Stupid! I should have done that sooner! My amplified sight meant there was no need now that the first light of dawn had arrived.
If they have any sort of advanced listening apparatus, I’m screwed! The spotlights were now probing the trail immediately behind me. They hadn’t quite found me yet. I sped up and kept to the trail. The Jeep jarred violently, disagreeing with the coarse terrain, but now I had no choice. If they found me, the vehicle was lost regardless. The spotters cut a swath across the path in front of me. If I wanted to hold onto this Jeep I had to get off the byway. I tapped the brakes and swerved into the tree line on the left. The beam of light swept right past where I had just been, continuing on before quickly drawing back. It flowed slowly over the same dirt path, the intense illumination growing hazy as it hit the trail, the floating motes of dirt rising incriminatingly. It passed back and forth several times before finally giving up. Almost instinctively I held my breath before realizing that was a human reflex, and thus impossible now.
After ten or fifteen minutes—it was hard to tell—I shifted into gear and re-entered the trail. Soon I heard another helicopter approaching in the distance. This one seemed to be homing in on me. They probably had listening gear and night vision goggles. Maybe infrared as well. They were definitely picking up the sound of the vehicle, and if I parked it, they could still locate it by the heat of the motor. Fuck! I didn’t know if this body generated heat as well. It hadn’t in experiments, but with an occupant it might be a different story. But I had no choice. I pulled off the trail, shifted into neutral, and stomped on the parking brake. Leaving the motor running, I jumped out. Maybe that would buy me a little time. I started jogging, roughly parallel to the trail. I made it about 150 yards when in a quick backward glance I saw a spotlight singling out my Jeep. I stopped for a minute and watched. A bright white strobe burned down on the vehicle, blurring the sharp edges.
Moments later they were screaming demands through a bullhorn. A rope dropped from the helicopter, and men started to descend. They wore full riot gear, body armor and all. I started running again. This body never seemed to tire, and I could reach incredible speeds. I should have been relying on this all along! I was traveling faster than the Jeep, and my trail was far less noticeable. There was no way I could anticipate everything, so taking the Jeep had not been a bad idea. But I just should have ditched it hours ago. I kept my hearing trained on the receding commotion while sprinting alongside the trail. At my current speed, I would reach Virginia before too long. It seemed unlikely they would make out my sound from the other animals in the woods. I didn’t pant for air, and I seemed to have precise control of my stride, conscientiously softening the blow of my footfalls. They contorted around piles of pine needles, skipped over hidden gullies, and hurdled debris. I heard the sound of guns firing. About five minutes later, the Jeep engine shut off. Soon, very soon…I just needed to get through this tricky stretch. I kept running.
After a little while the helicopter floated away in a fading din of thumping air, growing inaudible in the distance. The other sounds of the woods took over, filling the vacuum with moving animals, insects buzzing and clicking, and the constant grind of pine needles crunching under my feet.
About twenty minutes later, I started to hear a new sound. People—probably soldiers, with dogs—and at least two helicopters, most likely searching with spotlights and infrared. But they were all far away. The strength of this body, not to mention my performance so far, was starting to boost my confidence. I had no scent, gave off no heat, and was black. Real hard to find in a large, wooded area. The dogs posed no threat. The most they could pick up was the rhythm of my footfalls, and I was too far away for that. It wouldn’t be long before I reached the car. With it lay my hope of an easy escape. Then a thought crossed my mind. If they followed me too closely, or anticipated my trajectory, the clearing wouldn’t be too difficult to discern. The safest option would entail me circling out into the woods and back in an attempt to throw them off. Veering off to my left, I descended a slope and ran deeper into the forest. A wall of reeds abruptly manifested between the trees, and I tore through them, splashing into a muddy pond below. Insects buzzed around me, and my pace slowed as my feet started to slip in the muck. I tore out of the reeds and landed on another dirt trail.
Pausing for a moment, I listened. A swarm of gnats buzzed around me, but there were no sounds of pursuit. I started jogging up the trail, the soft sand crunching beneath my feet, a gang of tiny toads leaping out of the way to safety. The sky was now growing bright, and I could almost smell the freshness of the morning air. But that was just a memory. I couldn’t actually smell anything. Something whizzed past my head and exploded. I jerked to a stop and looked around. I could hear laughter in the background. A kid, maybe ten years old, wearing a white T-shirt and jeans came running over the crest of the hill. He was clutching a mess of bottle rockets and yelling back to his friends. As he stumbled down the slope toward me, his head came around and he froze. His jaw dropped open as the bottle rockets fell limply from his hand. Letting out a hoarse yell, he started to scramble back up the hill, his feet slipping on the pine needles, kicking up dirt and causing him to crash chest first into the ground. A couple of his friends peered over the crest and froze, eyes wide in disbelief. I must have looked like something out of a horror movie. These kids were probably in grade school, for fuck’s sake. They immediately dropped behind the hill, stumbling backwards, trailing the sounds of their screams. The fallen boy had managed to scramble back to his feet and wa
s quickly disappearing over the ridge as well. I decided it was time to look for that four-wheeling trail again. It was doubtful anyone would believe the kids, at least not at first, but some skeptical adults might come to check it out.
My sense of direction had improved slightly with this new body. I would still be guessing, but I seemed to have an inherent sense of my geographic situation, as if I had a built-in GPS now. I ran up the hill and to the right, out of sheer coincidence following the same path taken by the fleeing children. I bobbed and weaved around tree trunks and underbrush, my feet scouring pine needles with machine-like precision. The forest abruptly ended in a wall of tall grass and bushes, the top bathed in the bright morning light. I slowed my ascent, decelerating into a trot as I cautiously approached the edge of the trees. I peered through. The yellowed wild grass beyond waved softly in the wind, rising and falling like a body of water. It covered a large, circular plot. As I looked around the meadow, every direction appeared the same. Then something drew me toward the far end. I tried to focus, but it was slippery. A buried premonition. I strolled through the grass, the beckoning tips brushing against my hard shell of a body. Something darted across my foot. I couldn’t see it, but I could feel it. Even more fascinating, something told me it was a small mammal. But like the ephemeral pull toward a direction, I couldn’t quite grab onto anything, and by the time I noticed a presence it was already gone. I stepped out of the weeds and into the far tree line. Just ahead I could make out the gurgle of slow moving water, followed by a strange urge to advance toward it. The ground rose up in a steep incline. As I scaled the hill I climbed over a large fallen tree, the soil promptly falling away in a downhill cant before leveling out into a small bank. It bordered a shallow stream, the earth giving way in rough chunks to a rain-carved gully. The tops of large rocks glistened up from shallow depths, the walls descending layers of packed clay, scraps of half-buried mica gleaming in the morning sun. I jumped down into the stream and started wading, the water reaching only as high as my knees.
After half an hour, the barely existent trail crossed through in a slump of degraded mud walls and trampled vegetation. I climbed up the embankment, using exposed roots to pull myself aloft. The woods were thin here, the white slats and red bricks of buildings visible off to the right. A few feet ahead a chain link fence bordered the tree line, revealing a small street that lay just beyond. Had it been summer the vegetation would have provided better cover, but as it was the sparse leaves and bare branches left me dangerously exposed. This would have been a good time to have the Jeep, something to shield me from prying eyes. I tried to stoop down as I passed, but it only slowed my progress. I would just have to move quickly.
Before long, the trail thinned out as it led into a clearing. I could hear voices speaking harshly, and it sounded like police or soldiers. Are they here for me? Hiding behind a thick tree, I trained my hearing.
“I don’t know? Big! A monster!”
The voice was thin and high, a child’s voice.
“Fan out, encompass the area.”
That last voice sounded deep, filled with the grating self-assurance that came with a lifetime of giving orders.
Fuck me!
I glanced around. The trees seemed to thin out on my left. I crouched down and ran in a stoop, stopping at every tree and trying to remain out of sight. I glimpsed a flash of black cloth in the distance. That would be some special squad, maybe Navy Seals. They apparently aren’t taking any chances! I ran faster, the trees suddenly breaking away as I spilled out onto a poorly maintained lawn, the weeds rising mid calf. Freezing in place, I swiveled around, desperate for somewhere to hide. Several hundred yards away was a squat, ranch-style house. Focusing in, I scanned the close wall. It looked like the rear of the abode. It was straddled by a small porch, with a screen cloaking a glass door beyond. Windows sat on both sides. The place looked empty, with no sign of movement beyond the red curtains. I ran toward the portico, the lawn falling away in a shallow depression before quickly rising again in a steep hill as it approached the house. The window on the left was a small kitchen aperture. The one on the right was much larger, offering a view into the living room. Quaint and simply furnished. Best of all, it appeared to be empty. Stumbling up to the screen door, I pulled it open, stepping in to face the glass. A quick tug and it slid back. That’s small town living for you, leaving doors unlocked on an empty house! At least I hoped it was empty. Glancing around, I spotted a small fireplace, a hall heading toward the front door, and an opening on the left angling to what looked like the kitchen. Just past the white floral couch on the right were several closed doors. I headed toward the far door. Just as I cracked it open, into what looked like a guest bedroom, I heard a voice.
“Al?”
It was throaty, but young. A female, probably in her mid twenties.
“Is that you?”
I dove in the room and crawled under the bed. The voice grew closer.
“Al?”
A pair of feet entered the room, attached to slim legs ending in pink bunny slippers. They lingered in place for a moment, slowly turning and leaving. A few minutes later, I heard a knock at the door.
“Well, hello?”
“Ma’am.”
This was a similar tone to what I heard in the woods. Maybe the same person. Definitely some form of military.
“You’re…police?”
“Special unit, ma’am. Have you seen anything unusual around here lately?”
“Well, I… No… Just?”
“Anything at all?”
“Well, I thought maybe I heard a noise.”
Instantly I could hear them brushing by her, a surprised “But...” escaping her lips as they pushed her aside. I had to get out of there. I crawled on hands and knees to the opposite end of the bed and glanced up. There was a small latticed window. Crawling up, I pressed on it. Unlocked! I pushed it up. Gently depressing the pull-tabs on either side, I lifted the screen. Peering trepidatiously outside the window frame, I could see that the soldiers had already made their way into the house. Scrambling over the sill as quickly as I could, I barely skirted the line of bushes as I tumbled into the lawn. Jumping back up, I gently pulled down the window and then the screen. The tabs clicked as they fell into place, and I froze.
I can swear I just felt chills going down my spine, even though I know that’s impossible. Turning around, I bolted, crossing into the neighboring lawn, darting around the house, and dashing through the backyard. Once in the relative safety of the next-door neighbor’s premises I glanced at the house. Nothing. They must have still been inside. I peered over at the wood line and could make out a cluster of figures, four in total, dressed in black and discussing something. If they turned around they would have seen me, but luck was still on my side. I started running, picking up speed as I plowed through a sandbox. A kid had left his Tonka truck nestled beside a yellow plastic shovel that cradled a small mound. I leaped over it, in the process nearly flying into the swing set. Landing in an almost perfect acrobatic stance, I circled around the bars and kept going. I had no idea who might be spying me through back windows and needed to get back into the shelter of the trees. Following a brief level stretch of grass, the ground fell away, sloping downwards and into the woods below. Dropping out of view of the soldiers and peering eyes, I set foot back into the leafy shadows. I broke into a sprint, plowing through the forest, the coarse terrain barely slowing me down as I bounded and skipped through the dying foliage. The woods deepened, the noise of human activity fading away into the distance as I rejoined the off-road trail.
A brief jog later and the trees opened up onto a small paved road. Just as I slowed down my foot hit a root and I tumbled, falling into a roll. Bouncing out of the leafy coverage, I spiraled through the small shoulder, managing to regain my footing with a huddled crouch in the middle of the street. I looked up to see the ballooning grille of a Chevy Blazer bearing down on me! Just as the horn squealed, I jumped, springing into a forward dive that
ended with another tumble and me on the opposite side. The truck bowled through, evidently ignoring my strange appearance altogether. Dashing back into the woods, I realized things weren’t looking good. The kids, the truck—it would be too easy to piece together a route. I kept scampering down the rocky trail, navigating between the trees as the course penetrated the forest. Near the North Carolina-Virginia line was a descent-sized body of water. I could probably cross it without resorting to a bridge, and that was something they probably wouldn’t expect. At the very least it might throw them off.
The forest floor was dotted with bright splotches of light, the earthbound rays waging an all-out assault on the shade of the overhanging foliage. The sun burned down from a cloudless sky. I couldn’t discern the temperature, but it felt warm for autumn. Everything was brightly lit. I could see a mountain biking trail snaking through; in a small clearing on the left a shifty plank straddled a log to form a makeshift ramp. A gnashed up tree in the background was evidently the recipient of riders that didn’t quite make that jump. I concentrated, extending my hearing farther, past the trees and into the streets and houses beyond. People talking, vehicles in motion, a distant interstate. A little softer than I would expect, but it could have been a more rural area.
The trail passed another paved road, a well lit river of bleached concrete, the double lanes silent and barren in the bright midday sun. I stopped to scan the horizon. Nothing. Dead silence. No traffic on what should have been a major thoroughfare was a bad omen. I jogged across with a growing sense of trepidation.
The dirt path looped in and out, making it far from direct, but keeping it away from civilization. This was too narrow for a truck, probably more of a mountain biking trail. I thought the four- wheeling track went all the way to Virginia. Maybe not—or maybe I had stumbled onto a different route—but something drew me forward, a half-buried sense of self-assurance smoothing out the anxiety and urging me on. I knew houses often were not far away, but the forest had the comportment of wilderness. I used to play in woods like these as a kid. It all seemed so long ago, when I was still young and naïve. I used to envisage surreal worlds, making up my own fantasies and landscapes. I could be anyone or anything, but always the hero, pursuing some fateful mission, the lord of some lost kingdom. A gentle warmth saturated the landscape, and I gaped at the myriad twists and throws of nature with a mix of awe and enchantment. In my adolescent imagination it was all so real. Then you grow up and get slapped in the face by the cold, hard ways of the world. People grunting and competing like animals, all trying to win their position in the pack, mark their territory. Hormonal animals capable of treacheries and delusions unimaginable to a child. You have to fight, to struggle tooth and nail to get anywhere. It’s a cruel place, filled with fleeting victories and crushing defeats. I felt I had evaded looking the tiger in the eye, escaped some part of it, at least for a little while. It’s a rat race, and we all die in the end. Except for maybe me.
