Portal to the Forgotten

by John Gschwend

  He was trying to convince himself he was dreaming. Maybe it was some kind of stupid joke. He was still trying to figure it out when an orange-faced man approached the cage. The man had long, white-blond hair and wore deerskin or some other animal’s fur. As the man stuck his face close to the cage, Luke saw the orange color was paint—like an Indian or something.

  Luke grabbed the cage and shook it. “What the hell is going on? It ain’t funny. I’m a law officer and I will arrest everyone responsible.”

  The man jerked up a long, pointed stick, which Luke had not seen, and stabbed Luke’s hand. Luke recoiled and looked at the wound. Blood dripped from his hand, but it was just a scratch. He was lucky—the man intended it to be more.

  Luke backed away from the edge of the cage and that sharp stick. He didn’t understand what was happening, but it was real.

  The man spoke some words Luke had never heard before, and it sure was not English. In fact, it didn’t sound like anything on National Geographic either. The words seemed to buzz or vibrate. He pointed the stick at Luke, and Luke got the man’s meaning sure enough. The man hit the cage with the stick, then turned and walked back into the forest.

  Luke wiped the blood onto the robe. Fear came over him in a warm wave. It was almost funny—almost. It was like the fear he felt when he was only six, and he had lost sight of his mother at the county fair—fear of being alone among strangers. But the people at the fair weren’t this strange, and they damn sure didn’t beat on him and poke him.

  He took stock of his situation. The first thing he had to do was escape from the cage, get back to his truck, and find help. These people were probably some kind of cult. They pulled some kind of trick and made it look like those girls disappeared. Now, he was finally thinking straight. Now, everything was starting to make a little sense. People just don’t really disappear. Magicians could make elephants and airplanes seem to disappear. However, it was all a trick.

  Two women carrying some sort of skins came to the cage. Both women wore furs, too, and they had the same white-blond hair, and they had green painted faces. They stuck the skins through the posts of the cage and backed away.

  “I’m a law officer,” Luke said. “You better let me out of here. They will come looking for me anyway.”

  One of the women pointed at the skins and said something in the buzzing language.

  “Let me out of here, dammit!”

  They turned and went back into the forest from where they had come.

  Luke looked after them, wondered why the manhunt for Grace had not found this cult. They had flown over in planes and choppers. They even had bloodhounds. The hot fear came over him again. He shook the cage again, but the wooden posts were solid as steel.

  He looked down at the skins. They were bundles of something. He picked one of them up and unwrapped it. It contained what looked to be a rabbit that had been cooked over a fire. He dropped the bundle. For all he knew, it was poison.

  “Luke,” came a whisper at the edge of the forest.

  “Moon?”

  Moon eased out of the forest with her pistol at the ready. She didn’t seem at all like the innocent reporter Luke had met. She moved deliberately like a Navy Seal or something.

  She pulled a knife from her boot and tossed it to Luke, never taking her eyes off the forest. “Cut that rope and stay right on my tail. Be as quiet as you can.”

  Luke began sawing at the big rope. “Moon, who are you? What’s going on?”

  “Just cut the rope. Do it quickly. Trust me.”

  “Trust you? You’re no more a reporter—”

  Three orange-faced men charged out of the forest with spears raised. Moon dropped them with three quick shots. “Hurry, Luke!”

  Luke sawed so fast, that his hand was a blur. The door swung open as four more men ran from the forest. Moon dropped them with precision.

  Moon took the knife from Luke and started around behind the cage. “Stay with me, Luke!”

  Luke sprinted to catch her, but one of the strange, blond-headed men tackled him. Moon ran back and shot the man in the head.

  “Let’s go!” she said as she pulled Luke to his feet.

  A spear swooshed and stuck in the ground by their feet. Moon shot the blue-faced man who had thrown it.

  They ran through the forest like deer. It was no doubt to Luke that Moon had picked the escape route before she came after him. After what seemed to be a mile or so, they slowed to a jog, but never stopped. They ran in a shallow creek for a long distance. He figured she was trying to hide their tracks. He looked back. No one was following. He was glad he was in good shape because Moon was a machine. She was no reporter.

  The robe came untied and his naked body was revealed as the fur fanned back like a cape. He didn’t care. He just wanted to get away from whatever those people were. He knew he had to stay up with Moon—she had the gun. She knew more about what was going on than he did. Hell, he didn’t have a clue what was going on.

  Moon jumped out of the creek and ran toward a rocky hill. “Come on, Luke.”

  Luke’s feet were killing him; he looked down and saw blood. He wasn’t going to stop even if his feet fell off. He stayed right on Moon’s heels. She climbed to a rock ledge and pulled herself over. He grabbed the ledge, and Moon helped him over too. He tumbled onto his back and the robe fell open. Moon quickly looked away.

  Luke pulled the robe closed and stood. “Where are we?” He wanted to know the answer, but he was just saying something to hide his embarrassment.

  “We’re safe here for a time,” Moon said.

  Luke did a quick scan of the area. They were on a round, flat hilltop, about the size of a basketball court. They had a perfect view in all directions. There were a couple of trees that cast good shade. She had chosen the spot well.

  Moon went to the base of one of the trees and picked up something. Luke saw it was his backpack. She had his boots and clothes too. “How did you get that?” Luke said.

  “I caught ‘em napping.”

  He took them from her, and she turned her back as he put his clothes on. “What’s going on Moon? Who are these people?”

  She turned back. “Why did you follow me?”

  “You told me to.”

  “No. I mean when we heard the drums, back at the police tape.”

  “Why did you hit me on the head?” His hand went to his head. It was throbbing. Hell, he hurt all over from the pounding he had taken while under the net, not to mention his feet—he would need to inspect them later for thorns and such.

  She sighed.

  Luke looked straight into her eyes, and with a slow measured voice said, “Who are you?”

  She sat at the base of one of the trees. “Damn it, Luke.”

  Luke thought of the painted-face men and looked down the hill.

  “They won’t come,” Moon said. “We are too far from the village now.”

  Luke looked down at her. “We’re not in Arkansas anymore are we?” He had not even considered saying that, but his subconscious brought it to the front.

  She slowly shook her head.

  He dropped down beside her. He felt he would throw up. He wasn’t just afraid—he was confused. He felt lost.

  She pulled her pistol from her pocket and put fresh rounds in it. Luke could see it was a 9 mm. “Luke, we have fallen down a rabbit hole, and we are now in Wonderland.” She put the pistol back into her pocket and turned toward him. “But I’m not Alice, and there is no rabbit.”

  He studied her face—she wasn’t joking. He wanted to say something, but could only stare at her.

  She stood. “You should have stayed on the ground when I hit you.”

  He suddenly felt thirsty. He pulled the water bottle from the backpack and took a big pull. He had roamed the wilderness all of his life and had never been lost—never been afraid, but this was something totally different. He felt clammy. His stomach churned.

  She squatted down beside him in a catcher’s stance. “Remember Orio
n Williamson?”

  He remembered the unbelievable story—not so unbelievable now.

  “Orion stepped through a wormhole. Now, so have you.”

  Luke sat the backpack down. He closed his eyes. “You mean we are in outer space or something?” He opened his eyes to see she was smiling. He saw nothing funny at all.

  She stood. “No, Luke. We are still on earth.”

  Luke shot to his feet. “What the hell are you talking about? Cut to the chase! Where are we?”

  She looked past him and shaded her eyes with her hand. He looked where she was looking, saw smoke. “They will be hunting us tomorrow,” she said.

  “Who?” Luke watched the smoke. It looked like Indian smoke signals from an old western. “You said we were too far from the village.”

  She watched the smoke like she was reading it. “The ones with the painted faces are the Chooners. They are somewhat like helper bees. They don’t get too far from home, not too much to them.” She scratched her head and looked at Luke. “The hunters, the warriors, are called Scrains. They will hunt us until they kill us...or we kill them.”

  Luke felt the fear shoot up his back like an electrical charge. He didn’t know how she knew all this, but he believed her.

  She bent and tightened her boots. “I’ve got to check our perimeter, set a few traps. You stay right here.” She looked at the western sky. “It will be dark in a couple of hours. I doubt they will be here tonight—they don’t like darkness, but I’m not taking a chance.”

  He said nothing. He found it hard to regulate his breathing. He didn’t know what he should do. He didn’t know which way to turn.

  She took his hands. “Luke, I’ll be back before dark. Don’t leave this spot.” She smiled again. “Make us a little camp and make a big fire. There’s a little food in my pack.”

  “But they will see our fire.”

  “I’ve read their smoke. They already know where we are.” She slid over the ledge, but stopped at the edge. “I’ll be back. You’ll be safe.” With that, she smiled and dropped out of sight.

  He sat with his back against the tree; his eyes closed, and he tried to understand what was going on. He shook all over, felt like a rabbit or quail with a hawk circling, helpless and vulnerable, afraid to move. He looked at his hands shaking, clasped them together and squeezed them to stop the trembling. He pulled them up to his face and prayed as he had never prayed before—surely the Good Lord was here too. He squeezed his hands so tightly blood dripped from the spear wound and ran onto his lips and into his mouth.

  The taste awakened a long forgotten memory. It kindled in his brain like the first ember of a fire. He licked the blood as he fanned the memory. As a young teen, first learning to knap flint and make stone tools, he had cut a gash in his finger on the sharp stone. He had no water to wash the fine shavings of stone from the wound, so he sucked at it to clean it. Now he looked at the scar as he remembered. He was now an expert at fashioning stone tools. He hunted with them almost exclusively. He had always prided himself as a hunter, like the ancients, even when everyone made fun of his foolish and prehistoric weapons.

  He stood, instantly felt ashamed like a slap to the face. He was not prey. He was a hunter—a predator. And he was good at it; some say the best. He wiped his face and noticed the orange sun in the west. He clinched his fists and felt the blood swoosh through his veins. But this time the fear was not as strong as he remembered who he was—what he was. The fear was still there, but he had it identified now. Now he only had to control it.

  Luke hid among the bushes and watched as Moon climbed over the ledge. She scanned, but could not find him. She pulled the pistol from a deep pocket—she went into commando mode. He remained silent, motionless, in the recesses of the brush as he had done countless times before as a hunter. He was slowly growing back to his old self. Now he wanted to see exactly what she was.

  She bent to one knee and inspected where he had sat by the tree. She looked at the fire, which was still blazing strong—she would know he was still close. She looked to the sky. The sun was down, but still a little light left. She tried to pick up his tracks, but he had brushed them away. He saw a smile cross her face. She had recognized what he had done. She put the pistol back in her pocket. “Okay, Luke. They won’t come for you tonight.”

  Luke examined her. Oh, how wrong he had been about her. That cute innocent redhead had tricked him well—not anymore. He had no idea if she were friend or foe. If he wanted, and had a weapon, he would be in control of the situation, but he only had a rock. He stepped from the brush, dropped the stone. “Let’s talk.”

  She nodded and sat by the fire. “Alright, Constable. Since we are now in this together, that’s a good idea.”

  “Should I expect the truth from you?” He sat across the fire from her.

  She picked up a stick and tossed it into the blaze. “I guess I had that coming.” She looked at him. “Luke, we will need each other now.” She shook her head. “I won’t deceive you anymore.”

  “Who are you? What are you?”

  She nodded. “I work for the government, but I can’t tell you more than that.” She looked away for a second and then turned back. “Moon Serling is my real name as I told you before.”

  “Where are we, Moon?”

  “We went through a wormhole. We are in another dimension, in a place called Thoria.”

  Luke blew out a breath. “I find that hard to believe. Oh, something strange is going on, but I don’t know about all this other dimension crap.”

  “This is not science fiction.”

  Luke shot back. “You seem to know a whole lot about it.” Luke stood. “How do you know so much about these painted-faced demons?” He pointed his finger at her. “How did you get away from the net? How did you get my clothes? How did you know about this spot? You didn’t have enough time to scope it out.”

  “Sit back down, Luke.” After a minute he did. “I knew they would be waiting when I went through the portal. They have a ritual. When the portal opens, they have a net waiting for anything that may come through—birds, rabbits, deer, whatever. Usually nothing comes.”

  “Come on, Moon; you expect me to believe this mess?”

  “Don’t be stupid, Constable. You still have the bruises as proof.”

  Luke’s hand went to the stab wound. He was being stupid. He realized he needed to keep his cool and learn what he could from her. “Okay, Moon.”

  She untied her ponytail and let her red hair fan over her shoulders. Luke was taken back by the change. He felt his breath stutter.

  “Constable, I promise I will only tell you the truth.” The firelight flickered over her face and enhanced her beauty.

  “I will shut up and listen.”

  She smiled. “Those people are called the Florians. They somehow found this wormhole—something we are just beginning to study. Either someone opens it for them, or they know when it is going to open on its own. We don’t know.”

  “We?” Luke said.

  “My organization.”

  “How do y’all know this stuff and what is your organization?”

  “I told you. I’m not saying anything about the organization.”

  Luke threw his hands up. “Okay. Keep going.”

  “When they trap something in the net, which isn’t very often, they put it in a cage for a few days; then sacrifice it to their gods.”

  “Grace!” Luke’s heart dropped as he thought of Grace going through the portal. “Did you see Grace? Do you know what happened to her?”

  Moon slowly shook her head. “I don’t know. I...” She looked away.

  “What, Moon?” Luke moved around the fire next to Moon. He took her hands in his. “Tell me what you know.” He squeezed her hands. “Please!”

  She turned back to him; her blue eyes slowly looked up and looked into his. “I found her boots.” She looked down. “And her clothes.”

  “What does it mean? Maybe they gave her skins like they did me.”
>
  “Luke, they give skins to be sacrificed in. You would have been sacrificed tomorrow when the Scrains returned.”

  Luke let go of Moon’s hands and sank to the ground. He could see Grace’s pretty face in his mind, felt a sharp pain in his heart. He thought of Tyler in jail being held for a crime that he had nothing to do with.

  “Luke, I’m sorry.”

  He nodded.

  “We have to think of tomorrow.”

  Luke looked up. “Can we get back to our own dimension?”

  Moon said nothing.

  “Then what is there to think of?”

  “We have to get out of this valley. Across the mountain are friendly people.”

  “People! Do they paint up like savages too? Do they sacrifice innocent girls?”

  Moon shook her head. “We will be safe there.”

  Luke only thought of finding a way home now. If Grace was dead, why worry about anything else.

  “We must sleep,” Moon said. “We have to be on the move before first light. We will have to be sharp. The Scrains are great hunters and warriors. Luke, we will be lucky to get out of this valley alive.”

  Luke nodded absently, but he was thinking of Grace. He knew it was all out of his control, but he felt responsible for her death. He felt responsible for Tyler spending the rest of his life in jail. Now he was going to be hunted like a deer.