Out of the Archives #3

[fbhjr]

Mark moved through the forest, shotgun ready, looking for deer. Thirty feet to his right he could see the orange camouflage his father wore moving in the same direction. Only ten feet to his right, his younger brother followed him through the woods.
It was Doug’s first hunting trip out to the deep woods with his father and brother. He had been on day trips with them before, but never a week in the deep woods. Because of that, Mark kept his by his side. If he got lost out here, they’d be lucky if they ever found him.
Doug knew that he would be at the mercy of his brother’s sense of direction, and had come prepared. From his belt hung a global positioning device and direction finder. Mark laughed when Doug had shown it to him, but he had to admit it made him feel more confident about getting back to camp.
Mark loved the once a year trip deep into the forest. It took them a day on dirt roads and paths to get to their campsite. Other than the three of them, the closest people were more than a hundred miles away.
He knew that it could be dangerous up here. Last month a group of hunters had been caught in a flash flood while in these woods. Their bodies had been found twenty miles down river.
Because of that his mother had asked them not to go this year, but his father wouldn’t be swayed. He had been coming here for twenty years, and knew what he was doing.
They did keep well clear of the river bed, as it had a steep drop in most places. If they were in there when a flood came, they wouldn’t be able to climb back out in time.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw his father raise his hand. He looked over, and saw him taking aim at something he couldn’t see. He motioned for Doug to stay still, and they waited for their father to take his shot.
The noise from the shotgun filled the quiet forest, echoing off the hills in the distance. Mark and Doug ran through the low ferns that covered the area over to where their father was, looking to see if he had hit his target.
“What the hell were you doing?” his father demanded as they ran into the small clearing. “Didn’t you see me give the sign that I had him?”
“Of course,” Mark said. Doug nodded beside him.
“Then, why’d you shoot at my deer?” his father demanded. “I’m willing to let you take the shot if you want it, but if I say I got it, I got it! Now, since you missed, he’s high tailing it out of here and we’ll have to track him.”
“I didn’t shoot, dad,” Mark said, confused. “I saw you line up, then I looked for the buck. I heard the shot, and Doug and I came right over.”
“Neither of you shot?” their father asked. Both boys shook their head no.
“There must be someone else out here,” Doug said. All three looked up to see if there was someone in a stand they hadn’t seen. The trees were as empty of people as the forest had seemed.
“There weren’t any tire tracks out on the road,” their father said. “And, it’s the only road that leads in this far. Anyone else here would have had to hike in fifty miles.”
“Well, someone shot that gun,” Mark said.
Just as the words were out of his mouth, there was a whooshing noise, and an arrow embedded itself in the tree between them.
“Look out!” their father shouted, and pulled them to the ground. “Can’t you see we’re wearing orange!”
In answer, two more arrows shot into the clearing, thunking into tress between the three of them.
Mark looked at the arrow that had embedded itself into the tree next to him. It was not a standard hunting arrow. Instead of an aluminum shaft, it was made from a very thick wood. He could see from the marks on it that it had been hand made.
“I think we’re in trouble, dad,” he said. “These are hand made arrows. I don’t think they want anyone to be able to trace them.”
His father crawled over, and looked at the arrow. Doug watched them from the side of the clearing, remaining as quiet as he could.
“Damn,” he said, looking at the arrow. “You may be right.”
Mark could think of reasons that a person out here might shoot at strangers, but he couldn’t think of anything to do about it.
Another arrow arced into the glade. This one dug into the pack that Mark was wearing, pining it to the tree. Fortunately, the pack was all the arrow hit. Mark squirmed out of it but still managed to stay below the level of the ferns.
“You bastards!” Mark’s father said, leaping to his feet. “Come near my boys and I’ll blow you away.”
He fired a shot in the direction the arrows had come from. Before the first echo of the shot reached him, two arrows hit him. The first arrow hit the wooden stock of the shotgun. The force of it tore the gun from his hand.
The second arrow hit him in the arm. It smashed through his forearm, and pined it to the tree behind him. The force of the arrow had broken one of the bones in his arm, and he fell the ground because of the pain.
“Dad!” Mark shouted, getting up and running over to him. He pulled his father to the ground, ignoring the arrow through his arm. His father howled in pain as the arrow came free of the tree as he fell. Two more arrows hit the tree where he had been standing a moment before.
“Run,” his father said, barely conscious. “If you stay here, they’ll get you for sure.”
Mark turned his gun in the direction the arrows came from, and fired through the ferns in that direction. He wasn’t going to give them a shot at him as his father had, but had to get them some time to do something.
Doug got the idea, and both of them emptied their shot guns, at ground level, towards their attackers.
Although there was no sound from whoever was shooting at them, the arrows stopped falling. Mark motioned to his brother, and they both picked up their father and started through the woods as fast as they could.
Their father was bleeding badly, and was no help in moving. They dragged him as fast as they could, but soon another pair of arrows shot over them. Considering how well their attacker had shot before, Mark knew these must have missed deliberately.
Dragging their father left a trail that anyone could follow, and there was little chance they could out run anyone carrying him. Still, they had to try.
“Run,” their father said, head rolling back and forth as they carried him. “Drop me and run.”
“We’ll be OK, dad,” Doug said, and looked at Mark. Mark only shook his head, and said nothing.
Mark saw a movement to his left, and turned to look. He turned just in time to dodge a pair of hooves that reared in front of him.
He stumbled and fell across his father. Doug, lost his grip and fell into the ferns next to them.
Doug rolled over to look, wondering how they could possibly have missed riders in these woods.
Then, he realized that it wasn’t a man on a horse that stood in front of him, but the man grew out of the horse's body.
“Centaurs,” Doug said from behind him, filling in the name that Mark could not remember. “There’s no such thing.”
The creature that stood in front of them seemed to be very real. The lower body would have done a Clydesdale proud. The human like upper half looked like a picture from a body building magazine. In its large hands it held a long bow that had to be twelve feet long. The arrow in it was pointing at Doug’s chest.
The arrow in the bow was more than seven feet off the ground, but Mark was still considering jumping for it when a second centaur came into sight. This one held a collection of shotguns and rifles on it’s back. In its hands it held all three of the men’s guns.
“Standard shotguns,” the second one said to the first. Although Mark could understand what they were saying, part of his brain told him he had not heard English.
“Stand up,” the first one said, motioning with the bow.
Unlike the wooden arrows that had been shot at them before, this arrow was tipped with a modern hunting tip. It gleamed in the shadowy light of the forest, turning to follow him and his brother as they stood in front of the large creatures.
“All of you,” the first one said, motioning his head towards their father.
“He’s hurt!” Doug shouted. “He can’t get up.”
“I am aware of his injury,” the large Centaur said, smiling at them. “I caused it.”
Doug looked as if he was going to try to swing at the Centaur, so Mark bent over and started lifting their father.
“Help me with him,” he said to Doug. Doug looked up at the Centaur with hatred in his eyes, but stooped down to help lift his father.
“At least let us stop his bleeding,” Mark said, lifting up his father’s right arm, still pouring blood down his side.
“Let me see,” the second Centaur said. It walked over and bent over their father and touched his arm with its hand. The blood flow stopped at once. Mark looked at the wound. It looked as if it had healed days ago.
“Shikara nab,” the first Centaur said to the second. This time Mark was sure he was hearing them as they really talked. Whatever translated for them normally didn’t work when they talked with each other.
“Karing Haut,” the second one said, and backed away from the three men.
Their father stirred and woke up again. He looked at the two strange creatures towering over them, but didn’t say anything.
“Now, walk,” the first one said. He motioned with his bow, and the three men turned and started walking.
They walked in silence. There was no sound from their captors. From the sound in the woods, they might be the only people there. Whenever one of them looked, the one with the bow was right behind them, weapon ready.
“They’re walking us toward the river,” Mark’s father said.
“You think those others who died in the flash flood ran into these creatures?” Mark asked.
“You are the creatures,” the second Centaur said, appearing beside them. “You are the ones who come into our lands every year and kill what you want, replace nothing and then leave.”
“And this is how you show your superiority?” Doug asked. “This makes you better than us?”
“This is a matter of survival,” the first one said. “If you and your sons must die so my sons and I may live, then that is what will happen.”
“But, you don’t have to kill us,” Mark said. “Let us go, and we will never tell anyone about you. You’ll be safe up here. Almost no one comes here. We won’t talk!”
“Correct,” the first one said. “You will not talk.”
They reached the edge of the gorge the river ran thought. A steep incline ran down to the level of the water. This time of year the water level was low, and there was plenty of room at the bottom. If it started to rain the level would quickly rise. It wouldn’t take much of a rise in water to sweep the bottom clean.
“Climb down,” the first on said. “You will remain there until the rain comes. If you try and climb up, we will shoot you. If you try to climb the other side, we will shoot you. If you try and move down stream, we will shoot you.”
“What about up stream?” Doug asked.
“You may go upstream as far as the falls,” the lead one said. “Now, climb down.”
Mark considered trying to fight, but a look at the arrow stopped him. The first Centaur had kept the arrow pulled back the whole time they walked here. Mark doubted he would be able to pull it back at all. Much less hold it there for a long time. He realized if he tried to fight they could pick him up, and throw him into the gorge. The damage from the fall would look like an accident.
They climbed down into the gorge.
“Now what happens?” Doug asked, as they came to the bottom.
“Now, it rains,” Mark said. “I’m sure this is just what they did to the others last month. Drive them in here, and keep them here until it rains. Then, let the flood kill us.”
“We’ve got to get out,” their father said. “What do we have?”
“I lost my pack,” Mark said. His brother and father began emptying theirs. Since they expected to stay close to their base camp, neither had brought much with them. Doug’s collection of things were all most all electronic devices or freeze dried food.
“There’s something wrong with this,” Doug said. “Those creatures shouldn’t exist.”
“Well, my arm tells me they do,” his father said. Dried blood covered his arm and shirt, but the wound itself was gone.
“But they shouldn’t,” Doug said. “They look like creatures from Greek mythology. Why are they here in America?”
“Who cares?” Mark said. “They’re trying to kill us.”
“I think it’s all in our minds,” Doug said. “Some kind of hallucination. Probably something in the water or food.”
“That arrow through my arm was real,” his father said, holding up the arm.
“Then, where’s the wound?” Doug said, pointing to the arm. There was no sign of the hole the arrow made. Not even a scar remained.
“The second one healed him,” Mark said, looking at his father’s arm. “You saw him do it.”
“If they wanted to kill us, why heal him?” Doug asked. “More likely, you just though you were injured and came up with the healing explanation to explain why there’s no wound.”
“But we saw them!” Mark said. “They shot at us!”
“There’s no evidence of that,” Doug said. “No arrows, no injuries, nothing at all.”
“So what do we do?” their father asked. “Climb out of here and hope you’re right?”
“I do know that if we’re down here and it starts to rain, we’ll be in trouble,” Doug said. “I’ll take my chance with an imagined threat over a real one.”
He stuffed all his things, except his location finder, back into his pack and started up the hill. He kept his eyes down, looking only at the rocks he climbed.
Mark saw something move at the top of the gorge, but couldn’t tell what was up there.
“Doug!” he shouted. “Look out! They’re up there waiting for you!”
Doug kept climbing, not even looking up towards the top.
“There’s nothing out here but us and a few animals,” he said down to his brother. “And they can’t hurt me.”
Doug stopped on a ledge half way up the wall of the gorge and took out his direction finder. As he studied it, Mark saw one of the creatures come to the edge of the cliff and aim it’s bow down at Doug.
Mark started to shout a warning, but the Centaur let the arrow fly before he could make his mouth work. The arrow shot down, and straight through his brother.
If Doug noticed the arrow pass through him, he gave no sign. A few seconds later he looked up and started climbing again.
Mark ran over to where he heard the arrow hit bottom, but could find no sign of the wooden shaft.
“Think he’s right?” his father asked, looking up at Doug.
“I don’t know,” Mark said. “I saw that arrow go though him, but he obviously isn’t hurt. And, I can’t find the arrow.”
“I’ve been hunting here since before you were born,” he said. “Those things had hooves like horses. I’d have noticed their prints before now if they really lived up here.”
Mark noticed that his father’s shirt was still torn at the sleeve, but now there was no sign of the blood that had covered it a short time before.
“I think we should follow him,” his father said. “But, you’ve got to believe that there’s nothing up there but Doug.”
Mark nodded, and they both began climbing. Mark kept looking up to watch his brother. When he reached the top, Doug waved back down at them.
“See,” he shouted down to them. “Keep coming, it’s safe.”
Mark saw the first Centaur come out of the woods behind Doug. It carried a large staff in its hand. As he watched, it swung the staff through Doug. It passed through him, with Doug not even noticing.
Mark swallowed, and turned his eyes to the cliff. Doug might be able to believe the creatures weren’t real, but he couldn’t. He waited for the impact of an arrow from above, but it never came.
After a long climb, he reached the top. Doug was still there waiting for them, and there was no sign of anything else.
“Rest some,” Doug said, giving them a hand up over the edge of the cliff. “We’re still a few miles from camp.”
Mark and his father nodded, but didn’t say anything. As they sat and rested, Mark could hear movement in the woods behind them. He refused to look, or even ask the other’s if they heard it. He just stared over the edge of the gorge at the river below.
Soon after they reached the top, rain began. It was not a hard rain, but Mark could tell it would get worse soon.
“Let’s get going,” his father said. “I don’t even want to be near the river if the rain gets worse.”
“Camp’s this way,” Doug said, pointing with his direction finder.
They set off, walking as quickly as they could through the now dark forest. Under the trees little rain got through, but there was still enough to make them all wet.
As they walked, lightning and thunder began. Doug kept his eyes glued to his direction finder, leading them though the noise, flashing light and wet.
Mark did his best to keep his eyes on this brother, but they kept drifting to the woods. Every time the lightning flashed, he saw one of the two Centaurs following them through the woods. Once he was sure that he heard the hum of an arrow pass close to him, but he didn’t see it.
Finally, they came to the dirt fire road that ran through the forest. Doug led them to the right. A short way down the road, they saw their jeep parked by their tents.
Between them and the jeep, blocking the road stood the two Centaurs. Both had their bows drawn and pointed at them.
“I think we should forget camping and head back,” Doug said, walking towards the jeep.
Mark stopped where he was, and stared at the two creatures. There was no way he could believe that they were not as real as he was.
“I think I’m done with these woods,” his father said to Doug. They both walked straight towards the points of the Centaur arrows.
Lightning flashed, and the two Centaurs released their arrows. The two shafts shot through his brother and father, straight towards Mark. Mark screamed and jumped to the side. The arrows struck the mud where he had been, and he crashed into the ferns at the side of the road.
“Mark!” his father shouted, running back for him. The two Centaurs also approached. Mark saw how his father ran through the two of them as if they weren’t there. Despite this he still believed they were real.
“Come on, Mark,” his father said, lifting him out of the ferns. “What ever you see, it’s not real.”
Mark could only stare wide eyed at the two creatures that now stood before him. He could smell the musty odor of their pelts, and see the individual hairs on their body.
If they weren’t real, then he wasn’t either.
“Let’s get him in the car,” Mark’s father said. Doug grabbed his other side, and they carried him to the jeep. The two Centaurs parted to let them through.
They put Mark in the back seat, and climbed into the front.
“Aren’t you going to get the tent?” Doug asked.
“I think it’s more important to get Mark out of here,” his father said.
“You’re right,” Doug said.
His father started the jeep, and they started down the long road towards the highway.
The two Centaurs watched the tail lights of the jeep disappear down the road.
“Why’d you let them go?” the smaller one asked.
“If they don’t believe we’re real, they are no danger,” he replied
“What of the one who can still see us?”
“I don’t think he will be inclined to come back here,” the first one said, smiling. “Let’s see what we can get from their tent.”
The two Centaur’s striped the tent and camp of all useful things, then walked off into the dark, rainy forest.

Comments

[evrgreen.livejournal.com]

You've got a pretty creative imagination - a very entertaining story !
I'll have to to try to finish up a story or two of my own that is kicking around on a computer around here, somewhere... sort of a "Keeping up with the Hunts" sort of thing ;-)