by Kay L. Ling
Her dream came back to her. Was this the troubling object she’d found?
She dropped the stone and rubbed her hands briskly. Sensation returned, but slowly, and it was creepy to think that her hands had gone numb. An inner voice whispered, bury the stone and leave it here. But how could she—gems and minerals were her life. If she took it home she could look it up in her reference books. It had to be something really rare. She picked up the stone and slipped it into her pocket.
Retracing her steps, she came out on the original marked trail and resumed her hike. The unplanned detour had taken at least a half hour, and as she started to climb a series of steep hills, she was already looking forward to plopping down on the familiar bench at the top of the fourth hill. She reached the crest, breathing hard, and her heart sank. “Rats,” she mumbled. A family had already beaten her to the bench, but maybe they wouldn’t stay long. She could really use a break. Her legs ached and she was dying to sit down and catch her breath.
Two dark-haired boys, maybe eight and ten, sat with their mother, looking so bored and dejected that Lana couldn’t help but feel sorry for them. Mom looked equally unhappy. Dad, his cell phone to his ear, asked irritably, “Can’t it wait till Monday? I left that file at the office. Tell him I’m out of town for the weekend.”
Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to live in a world without computers or cell phones. She never brought her phone here. The last thing she wanted was someone calling her when she was trying to relax.
She pretended to study the path ahead, the rock-strewn hills that fell away on either side of the trail, the slow progress of clouds across the sky—anything, so she didn’t look like she was waiting impatiently to sit on the bench.
The man ended his phone call but the family didn’t show any signs of leaving. She felt awkward waiting any longer, so she gave up and started walking.
For the rest of the day her only companions were birds, squirrels, and an unsuspecting snake that lay by a rotting log she had chosen as a seat. It darted away and hid in a clump of rocks, but she didn’t scream or run away. Although she didn’t particularly like snakes, she wasn’t afraid of them. Years ago, the boys next door had been famous for trying to frighten her with frogs, mice, and snakes, expecting her to run away screaming. She had stood her ground. Once, she had even touched a big garden snake to prove she wasn’t afraid. It had felt smooth and cold, like Mom’s purse. The boys had looked at her with new respect after that. She smiled at the memory. Actually, she hated bugs and spiders more than snakes.
The sun’s rays, slanting through the leaves, felt soothing and warm even though the breeze was a bit chilly. For a moment she closed her eyes and simply listened to the rustling leaves. Here in this quiet place she could empty her mind of everything but the forest and shed all her stress. No overbearing Arlene, no duties to aging parents, and no too-busy friends to disappoint her. A deep sense of relaxation settled over her and a few times she caught herself nodding off. Something finally roused her, maybe squirrels chasing each other, or a birdcall. Whatever it was, she stretched and glanced at her watch. It had stopped, she noticed with surprise. Fully awake now, she looked at the darkening sky. How long had she sat here? Considering how dark it was, her watch must have stopped a couple hours ago. She jumped to her feet. The park would close in a few minutes and she was probably a mile or more from her car. If the rangers spotted her, she was sure to get a scolding. Digging into the gem pouch she wore on her belt, she pulled out gems for strength and stamina, and held them tightly as she started to run.
By the time she reached the last of the four hills, she felt amazingly alive and refreshed. The air smelled like damp soil. Every limb and branch stood out boldly against the darkening sky. Her footfalls came unusually clear and distinct to her ears.
She reached the parking lot, still jogging, but even with the benefit of her gems she was getting a pain in her side and she finally slowed to a walk. Her car was the only one left. No surprise, there. Just then a black SUV marked “Parks and Recreation” pulled in, checking for stragglers. She waved to say she was leaving. The ranger gave her a stern look as if to say, “Why are you still here?” and then rolled up his window and circled to the exit. Clouds of dust rose as he pulled onto the paved road. No doubt he was anxious to go home, especially on the weekend.
She unlocked the door of her old blue Toyota and slid behind the wheel. Maybe it wasn’t her dream car, but it was reliable and she didn’t have car payments. She turned the key in the ignition.
Nothing happened.
What? Why wouldn’t the car start? It had to start! She twisted the key again.
Nothing.
Of all the times to pull a stunt like this! The Toyota had never been temperamental and this was no time to start. Flinging the door open, she walked around and lifted the hood. The battery cables were attached, so that wasn’t the problem. Maybe a wire had come loose in the electrical system? She scanned the engine compartment. No, nothing looked detached. What else was she supposed to look for? She let out an angry hiss. Who was she kidding? This was a waste of time. She had no idea what she was looking for. Slamming the hood shut, she climbed into the car and glared at the windshield. Now what? The park ranger was long gone. In a few minutes he’d be home having dinner. Lucky him. No dinner for her tonight.
She slumped in resignation. Face it. She wasn’t going anywhere tonight.
Chapter 3
How ironic. She’d been so excited to come here, and now she wanted nothing more than to be home, safe, watching TV or curled up on the couch with a book. She stared out the car window. The forest felt so forsaken after dark. The hushed solitude had seemed wonderful this afternoon. Now, it just felt ominous. She opened her gem pouch and found rhodonite and rhodochrosite, both known for enhancing eyesight, and drew their power. In addition to allowing her to see distant objects more clearly, the gems would improve her peripheral vision and greatly enhance her night vision.
The night sky was clear, lit by the stars and a three-quarter moon. As her vision sharpened she scanned the trees along the edge of the parking lot and tried not to imagine nameless horrors lurking there.
Time to decide what to do. She rubbed her chin thoughtfully. Which was worse, spending the night locked in the car, or sleeping in the dark, creepy woods where at least she could stretch out? Neither alternative sounded very appealing. If she stayed in the car, she wouldn’t have to worry about bugs, snakes, or animals—just people. No one was likely to come here after dark, but she couldn’t rule it out. Sleeping in the car, even with the doors locked, would leave her trapped and vulnerable. She imagined waking to see a face peering through the windshield. The hair on the back of her neck stood up. Okay, that decided it. Sleeping in the woods had to be better. At least she could run and hide. And quite honestly, she probably wouldn’t see anything scarier than a fox or a coyote.
It was so unfair. What were the chances of being stranded the one place she never took a cell phone? From now on, she’d bring the phone and leave it in the car. She popped open the glove compartment and grabbed her flashlight. With any luck, the blue blanket that doubled as a ground cloth for picnics and a beach blanket was still in the trunk. She got out, gave the traitorous Toyota a black look, and opened the trunk. Good. The blanket was there—a bit tattered and grass stained, but who cared?
No point carrying anything she wouldn’t use. Pocket change, snack foods, the weird stone and her purse, could all stay here in the trunk. She tossed in anything that would weigh her down, then put on her jacket and grabbed the blanket.
Starting across the parking lot, she switched on the flashlight and gave a sigh of relief when it actually worked. Perfect. Bright enough to keep her from tripping over roots or stones on the trails. She strode toward the trailhead. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all. Someday she’d laugh about her County Forest adventure.
On the trail, she indulged in an old childhood game, placing one foot in front of the other as quietly as possible,
pretending to be an Indian. Despite her caution, twigs crunched underfoot and she winced at the sound. Apparently she wouldn’t make a very good Indian. She’d be awfully hungry after scaring off all the game. As if to prove her point, something farther up the trail scampered away. Twigs snapped in the underbrush.
The rutted path led up a hill and then descended sharply, forking at the bottom. She chose the path on the left, remembering a grassy clearing that would make a nice overnight camp.
The heavy, damp air smelled of wet moss and leaves. Except for her labored breathing, everything was strangely quiet. Unnaturally quiet. Shouldn’t there be crickets or other insect noise? Something seemed wrong, but she couldn’t say what. For a moment she stood perfectly still like a deer that senses a hunter. Everything looked and sounded different at night. That was all it was. Flicking the flashlight over the trail, she strained to see beyond its beam.
She started walking again, a little faster now. Not that she was scared. It just made sense not to dawdle. She’d find her camping spot, and then she’d settle down and try to get some sleep.
The trail skirted a shallow streambed. A narrow channel of water flowed sluggishly through the mud. In the spring, the stream ran swiftly, filling and often over-flowing its banks, but now twigs and leaves lay exposed in sodden, rotting clumps.
An owl hooted mournfully. Leaves rustled overhead. Lana scanned the trees on the far bank, unaccountably nervous. For the last few minutes she’d felt that someone or something was watching her. Who would be here after hours? Shining her flashlight over the brush and trees on both sides of the trail, she continued cautiously.
But the uncomfortable feeling persisted, no matter how she tried to ignore it, and she fought a childish urge to whistle or hum a tune—anything to break the silence. Her breath came in shaky, shallow gasps, the tension growing stronger with each step. Poised to run at the slightest hint of danger, she forced herself to glance over her shoulder to prove nothing was following her.
Just ahead, a different trail went up a steep hill. She hesitated a moment and then switched trails, annoyed with herself. What was the matter with her? This trail led away from the camping spot she’d had in mind. Now she’d have to find a different place to camp. She walked a few yards, and then giving in to a sudden urge to run, she sprinted up the hill.
At the top of the hill she stopped, sweating and winded, and shone her flashlight down toward the streamside trail. The darkness seemed thicker there. Shadows clawed at her light and slithered away. A chill breeze rustled through the treetops. Dead leaves skittered around her feet. She licked dry lips, unwilling to train the light on that trail any longer. Why did she feel she had narrowly escaped something dark and terrible?
And that it was still watching her?
Squaring her shoulders, she turned, training her light on the trail ahead. If she didn’t rein in her over-active imagination she’d be in for a long, sleepless night. Moving her flashlight in a high, sweeping arc she was relieved to see rows of huge pines standing like military ranks. She knew where she was now, and even in the dark this part of the woods had a wholesome, inviting look. The lack of underbrush and the wide spacing between trees made a path almost unnecessary, but there was a path. A trail marker—a green metal arrow—had been tacked to a nearby tree.
She had come here so many times she could picture the lay of the low, rolling hills. She started forward, and even in the dark with just a flashlight to light the way, the broad trail was easy to follow. Breathing in the sweet tang of pine, she slowed her pace and began to relax. The dense carpet of fallen needles cushioned her footsteps, so she could stop worrying about making noise. As long as she skirted fallen branches rather than stepping on them, she would barely make a sound.
It was quiet here, but not unnaturally silent like the streamside trail. A hushed symphony of insect noise surrounded her. Pine boughs stirred gently in the breeze, whispering a soothing lullaby. After walking at least a mile, she stopped to drink in the atmosphere. This had always been her favorite part of County Forest Park, and it was positively magical at night. Her flashlight could only illuminate a small area, but wherever she shone her light, powerful boles rose far overhead, their limbs spreading in a dense canopy that shut out the rest of the world. She stretched out her arms and turned in a slow circle, smiling. If an enchanted forest existed, it would feel just like this—an unearthly place where time stood still.
The ground was soft, thanks to the dense mat of needles. This would be a good place to camp. She swept her flashlight over the trail. Ahead, a log bridge spanned a wide, shallow ditch. She played her light over the ditch. It was probably wet and swampy down there, but the land on the other side looked flat and dry. She crossed the log bridge in four long strides. A small clearing a few yards away looked like an ideal place to camp.
After finding a spot free of roots, twigs and broken branches, she spread out the blanket, toed off her sneakers and sat. In a way, this was kind of exciting—being on her own after hours, camping in the wild. Not that she’d do it again on purpose. In fact, if someone rescued her right now, she’d happily go home and crawl into her warm bed.
In the distance, a lone owl hooted. The breeze died away and the boughs stopped rustling, leaving a hush so complete that all she could hear was her own breathing.
Up until now she hadn’t felt cold—at least not much—but now that she wasn’t walking, the air felt damp and her jacket wasn’t very warm. It would be a lot colder by morning. Without matches or a lighter, she couldn’t start a fire, but if she did have a way, she’d be tempted—park rules or no. The campfire she had stumbled across, who had made it? The same people who had left behind the unusual stone?
And when had they been here? In the daytime?
Or after hours?
She switched off her flashlight and set it on the ground. Anyone who ignored a rule that forbid campfires might ignore other rules as well—like park hours. Pulling part of the thin blanket over herself, she curled up on her side and shut her eyes. If only she had a pillow and a sleeping bag. Even then it would be hard to sleep after the uneasy feeling she’d had on the streamside trail—that feeling of eyes watching in the dark. For all she knew, she wasn’t safe even here. She pulled the flashlight under the blanket.
An hour or more passed before she felt herself drifting off to sleep. In that hazy plane of consciousness she thought she heard distant voices, branches snapping, a whistle like a signal, but it was just a dream, she told herself groggily.
When she rolled over a while later, the flashlight jabbed into her ribs and her dream of camping in the Grand Canyon dissolved. She felt headachy and confused. Opening her eyes a sliver, she blinked in the moonlight. A cold gust swept through the pines, and branches shivered overheard, needles rustling. Distant voices pierced the night air. Voices! She sucked in a breath, shivering.
She couldn’t make out the words, but something about the voices sounded wrong. The tone was odd. Guttural. Rasping. Inhuman, she thought with a mounting sense of panic.
Inhuman? That’s crazy.
Throwing back the blanket, she turned on the flashlight. She’d risk using a light for a couple minutes. Where were her sneakers?
Her eyes dropped to her arm and the malachite bracelet.
Malachite: guardian stone of travelers. A stone that can detect impending danger.
She leapt to her feet, heart racing.
Malachite will break into pieces when danger is near.
That had sounded like a farfetched claim. Until now.
Her malachite stone had cracked in two.
Chapter 4
The strange, guttural voices drew closer, punctuated by angry shouts. Lana frantically looked around. She found her sneakers, shoved her feet into them, and tied them hastily. Snatching up the flashlight and blanket, she drew a deep breath. Don’t panic. Stay calm. Think. Where could she hide? The trees were spaced too far apart to provide much cover. Climb a tree? No, that would never work. The bran
ches were all too high.
You can’t stand here dithering. Get moving!
She ran—hopefully in the opposite direction of the voices. More shouts. Then silence. She tried to run noiselessly, but it was impossible, even on a carpet of pine needles. Dry twigs crunched underfoot, and her breath rasped in her throat.
An eerie horn-blast pierced the brief silence, and she gasped in alarm. Who used hunting horns these days? All she could think of was an English foxhunt. And she hoped she wasn’t the fox. After a few seconds, a horn with a different pitch answered, then a third. She had to ditch the blanket. It was slowing her down. Worse, it was sure to snag on branches or underbrush.
Pausing long enough to roll the blanket tightly, she wedged it under some fallen branches. What should she do about the flashlight? Running by moonlight was suicidal, even with her enhanced night vision, but using a light would give her away. She switched it off, stuffed it into her jacket pocket, and plunged deeper into the woods.
I have to stay ahead of them—whoever they are.
The voices and horns sounded closer no matter which direction she went or how fast she ran. Coincidence? Was someone looking for her? Tracking her? Suddenly her sense that someone had been watching her in the lowlands didn’t seem so silly.
She could keep running until she dropped, but trying to outrun them didn’t seem to be working. It was time to hide. If she was very quiet, they might pass by. The strange voices were disturbing. Just who or what was she was running from? She crouched behind a tree.
Not far away, a dog snarled and then gave several sharp, angry barks. Her heart nearly stopped. A dog! That was a game changer, especially if it found her blanket. She couldn’t hide long with a dog tracking her scent, and she’d never outrun it. A wave of nausea swept through her. She didn’t stand a chance now.
