Consequence

by C R Langille

  Somewhere in the distance, Brock yelled. It sounded like it came from behind a heavily insulated room, muffled and weak. Toby turned his head, and the world swam in response. His vision blurred and made it difficult to make out details, but Brock fought with something. A quiet pop sounded off, followed by a haze of smoke, but Toby couldn’t register what it meant.

  The oppressive force doubled its efforts and attacked from all sides. His head was about to explode, but somehow everything stayed intact.

  Just focus. Think. Breathe in, breathe out. Rinse and repeat. As he performed the most basic of bodily functions, the pressure dissipated. The sound a of struggle worked its way through the muffled filter into the real world. Breathe in, breathe out. He kept taking in air, and the pressure relieved a little more. You reap what you sow, Tobias. It’s your kill. Now finish it.

  His father’s words brought the world back in focus. The immense pressure disappeared, and his hearing returned.

  “Damn it, help!”

  Brock struggled with the bull. One of its twisted and gnarled antlers stuck into Brock’s leg about an inch into his flesh. The elk tried to further gore him, but Brock gripped the antlers at the base of the bull’s skull. Somehow, he was able to keep it at bay. Sweat poured down Brock’s face, and his cheeks were bright red.

  The elk looked worse than before. Its skin slumped off its bones, as if its flesh was a coat three sizes too large. Parts of its skull shone through where pieces of skin were missing. The thing continued to drive its weight into Brock, but its eyes, which looked like burning pieces of coal, focused in on Toby.

  He grabbed his muzzleloader and took aim. His vision blurred again, and when it cleared, his sights were set on Brock’s chest. Toby almost pulled the trigger, and a slight tickle formed at the edge of his mouth.

  Toby breathed in and focused. He lowered the weapon until the bull entered his sights. Toby tried concentrate on the shot, but Brock and the elk moved around too much. Instead, he grabbed the gun by the barrel and charged. Toby slammed the heavy stock into the creature’s neck with a loud and sickening crack. Its bones snapped under the power of the blow, which elicited a grunt of pain from Brock as well.

  Toby expected to see the thing fall to the ground, dead for good. Yet, somehow it still stood. The embers of its eyes burned even brighter, and its lip curled up into a snarl. The elk renewed its efforts, and Brock screamed in protest.

  Toby dropped the muzzleloader and drew his knife. He took a step toward Brock and the creature, but something stopped him.

  The knowledge came to him in a rush, as if he’d known it all along. The same way he felt the hate and rage from the creatures, he could see the core of this monster. Behind the flesh, blood, and rot, a ball of oily darkness rolled around in the bull’s brainpan. It leaked out from the thing’s mouth and from behind its eyes, and Toby knew it acted as the source.

  Toby became aware of the forest around him. Energy rolled through it, life energy. It was as natural as the warmth of the sun or the love from an embrace. Toby didn’t know how he’d never felt such a thing before. He touched a nearby aspen, and the power trickled into his hand and seeped into his being. Toby pulled his hand away, and a wispy line of golden energy extended from the tree and flowed into his palm. The tree’s energy lit up his senses. He was invigorated for a small moment, almost like the effects of a sugar rush.

  The roiling cloud of oily smoke in the creature seethed with anger, and a wave of cold rushed through Toby and pulled him back to the moment. He focused his mind and grabbed more ethereal energy. As soon as he rolled the spark into a tiny ball, the vegetation around him flared with a golden hue. His breath caught in his throat when the plants’ life roared alive and jumped from the ground to his palm. It heated up in his hand and warmed him through the unnatural cold but then flared so hot the skin on his hand blistered. Toby screamed in pain and lost focus. The power started to slip away.

  It’s your kill. Now finish it.

  He thrust his hand out in front of him toward Brock and the elk.

  The energy shot forward toward the bull. It slammed into the thing’s head and exploded. The creature’s body convulsed and then slumped to the ground. Brock still held on to the creature’s antlers and followed it to the dirt so as not to damage his leg any further. The oily cloud flitted from its skull and then dissipated into the air.

  The surrounding plants crumbled and fell away, drained of their life. Toby stood in a circle of wilted flora and almost threw up.

  His fingers tingled, and every sensation amplified to the point of overwhelming. The breeze slid across his hand, and he looked at his fingers like they might jump and bite. The skin around his fingers and hand was red and angry. The blisters from the heat hurt to look at.

  Toby took a step, and exhaustion replaced the invigorating energy that filled him only moments before. He almost fell to the ground and instead leaned against a tree for support. Whatever had happened took more than just life from the plants.

  “A little help here,” Brock said.

  Toby shuffled to Brock’s side and used his good hand to help drag the elk carcass off him. Brock grit his teeth and let out a small yelp of pain as the elk’s weight yanked the antler from his leg. Blood poured from the wound and stained his pants.

  “Put pressure on it,” Toby said.

  Brock placed both hands over the wound and pressed down and growled in pain again. Toby helped move him next to a tree and ripped a piece off from his shirt. He tied it around the leg and hoped it would be enough to staunch the flow of blood for the moment.

  “What the fuck just happened?” Brock asked.

  Toby held his seared hand up, and a small tingle of energy ran up his arm like little electric spiders.

  “It was weird, it felt like the… the…” Toby scratched his head and searched for the words. He pointed the surrounding vegetation. “I could feel the forest, and somehow I tapped a small portion of it. At least, I think I did.”

  “You’re not making any sense,” Brock said.

  “I know. I wouldn’t believe it if I didn’t just do it,” Toby replied.

  “What about those?” Brock said and nodded toward the circle of dead plants.

  “I don’t know.”

  But he did know. He stole their energy to fuel his power.

  Brock was about to reply when static belched from the radio’s transmitter and filled the wooden glade. Brock pulled the device out and keyed the microphone.

  “Chuck? That you?” Brock asked.

  Static cut through the radio again, but this time, Chuck’s high-pitched voice accompanied it.

  “Where the hell are you? Is Toby with you?” Chuck asked.

  Toby sighed, and Brock seemed equally pleased and smiled as he brought the radio to his mouth again.

  “That’s a big 10-4. Toby Dick’s with me. Where you at?” Brock asked.

  “Headed back to camp,” Chuck said.

  “He can’t go back. Those things will tear him apart,” Toby said.

  “You can’t go back there!” Brock said.

  Nothing. Brock tried again but garnered the same response. He looked at the radio and then threw it on the ground.

  “Dead,” Brock said.

  Chapter Six

  Toby stared at the radio. It lay in the dirt underneath some sagebrush like a coiled viper. He knew on some level the radio would only work when whatever it was wanted it to work. Whatever stalked these woods wanted them to hear the transmission and nothing more. He growled, and the rage inside him burned. If he could only find what messed with them, he’d show it why it was a bad idea to fuck with, Tobias Evard Warner II.

  The forest remained quiet, yet there was an underlying pressure that threatened to burst the silence with maniacal laughter at any moment. Toby’s skin crawled.

  His muzzleloader lay discarded near
by. Toby bent down and picked it up. Even though it didn’t seem to affect the bull, having it gave him some reassurance regardless. He slung the weapon over a shoulder and took a bottle of water out of his makeshift tarp-pack. The cool liquid slid down his throat and brought with it a momentary sense of peace.

  Branches snapped in the distance, and birds took flight. Their squawks of annoyance echoed through the valley as they flew away. He scanned the woods but couldn’t make out any movement.

  For good measure, Toby grabbed the discarded radio. He tucked it away in on his belt.

  “You get the sensation something’s messing with us?” Toby asked.

  “Always,” Brock replied. “So, you going to tell me what happened? What did you do to the elk?”

  Toby flexed his hand again, and for a brief moment, some of the golden light crawled across his fingers like electricity across a Tesla coil. It faded away and left his joints aching. He tried to summon it up again, but nothing happened.

  “I… I don’t know. I can’t explain it really. I just kind of knew what to do. Not sure how though.”

  Brock eyed him for a moment with a look filled with two parts suspicion and one part appreciation. Toby pointed to Brock’s wound.

  “How is that going to hold up?”

  “It will do for the moment, but we’re going to have to stitch it up or maybe cauterize it before too long. That’ll be fun,” Brock replied.

  “We need to get to Chuck before he gets back to camp.”

  Brock nodded.

  Toby helped get the man to his feet, which turned out to be a difficult process. Brock took a sharp intake of breath when he stood.

  “Damn it!”

  “You going to make it?” Toby asked.

  “I’ll live.”

  Brock tried to play it tough, but the wound aggravated him. The man limped, and no matter how tight they kept the bandage, blood continued to seep from the gash. It took a few minutes, as well as the use of Brock’s gun as a walking stick, for them to make any progress.

  The return trip through the woods was slow. It was partly due to Brock’s leg and partly due to the lingering exhaustion that sapped Toby’s strength. Toby was sure the woods watched their every movement and lead them along the way, herded like cows to the slaughter. They slowed when they neared the edge of the forest. The pig creatures were gone, but their stench still hung in the air. The vegetation lay mashed and broken where the things stood earlier, along with clumps of fur, scat, and pungent-smelling puddles Toby could only imagine were piss. A blind man could follow the trail the things left, and Brock pointed parallel to the trees, eastward.

  “They took off that direction. I’m thinking they’re following the tree line hoping to find us on the other side. Looks like they didn’t head back to camp,” Brock said.

  “I hope you’re right. Come on.”

  They stepped from the trees into the glade and let the sun’s rays blast the shadows away. Toby took a moment and basked in the warmth. He imagined the rays cleansed the corruption stuck to his skin. Then, he double checked his weapons and ensured everything was within reach.

  The respite dissipated as a set of dark clouds blocked the sun out of view. As soon as the light disappeared and turned from a bright yellow to a gloomy grey, Toby’s heart dropped back to reality. The smoke from the burned-out truck flitted into the air and rode the current. The haze drifted up and away from the wreckage and looked like a wispy snake twisting into the sky, only to mix and meld into the color of the sick clouds.

  Toby took a step forward but stopped. Something tugged at his core. Whatever dwelled at the site grabbed at his newfound energy. The pull was almost physical.

  “Something’s waiting for us,” Toby said.

  “I figured.” Brock said. “What should we do?”

  “We can’t leave Chuck behind,” Toby replied.

  “What if Chuck’s already dead?”

  Toby looked back to camp. “And what if he’s not? We can’t leave him. I’ve got to know for sure,” Toby said. “Let’s just go get him. No sense whistle-dicking around any longer. Fast and quick.”

  “Fuck this. He’s probably dead, and we’re going to get killed too if we go in after him,” Brock said.

  Toby clamped his jaw shut until it hurt. How could Brock be such an uncaring prick? He wanted to smash the man’s face in and leave him bleeding in the dirt, but Toby took a deep breath and tried to calm down.

  “We can’t go until we know for sure. If there’s any chance he’s alive, we owe it to him to find out and help,” Toby said as evenly as he could, but his voice still came across coated in steel.

  “Whatever, let’s make it quick.”

  The pair went as fast as Brock could, which wasn’t fast at all. But it allowed Toby some extra time to gather his thoughts. He tried to call the energy back to his hand. Each attempt got him a little closer, until the tips of his fingers went numb.

  The constant pull toward the camp grew in strength, and Toby concentrated to keep his movements from falling under the influence of whatever it was. Even though his end goal seemed to coincide with the unseen entity’s, the thought of being a puppet didn’t sit well with him.

  When they were close to 100 yards away, Toby crouched down and looked through his binoculars. Things sat untouched and exactly as they left them; however, Dave’s body no longer sat in the chair.

  “What do you see?” Brock asked.

  “Nothing, Dave’s gone, and I can’t find Chuck,” Toby replied.

  “This don’t feel right.”

  Toby replied with a nod and continued to scan the camp. He looked for clues as to where Chuck may be. A blur flashed passed the corner of the binoculars. Toby scrambled to find the movement again and focused in on his truck. At first, nothing moved, but then the truck twitched and rocked, as if a heavy wind buffeted the side of the vehicle. Except the breeze floated by too gently to move much of anything, let alone the F-150.

  “My truck,” Toby said and handed his binoculars to Brock.

  He never took his eyes off the vehicle but let go of the binoculars when Brock grabbed them. The truck jiggled again.

  “Did you see it?” Toby asked.

  “Yep.”

  “What do you think?”

  Brock handed the binoculars back to Toby. He crouched low to the ground as well and groaned under the pain of his leg. Finally, Brock situated himself and let out a sigh as he relaxed on the hard-packed dirt.

  “I still think we should get the fuck out of Dodge. Just make our way to the road and flag someone down. We can send in the god damned cavalry when we get back to civilization,” Brock said.

  He wanted to strangle Brock, squeeze the life out him until the man grew a pair and stopped being such a prick. Toby shot the man a glare seeped with every ounce of “fuck off” he could muster. But, he kept his comments to himself. Toby growled and balled his hand into a fist.

  “If it were you trapped, what would you want us to do? You know we can’t leave him,” Toby said.

  Brock remained silent for a moment. He looked back at the truck. Then, he spat into the dirt.

  “Look, I’m not going to be able to move fast with this,” he said and nodded to his leg. “So it’s you. Don’t fuck it up and get him killed.”

  “What do you mean?” Toby asked and tried to keep focused on the task.

  “I mean, I’ll watch your back. You go see what’s what.”

  “You’ve got to be joking,” Toby said.

  “Nope. You leave your gun here, and I’ll have two shots at anything that comes out. Besides, I can shoot the ass off a fly at 200 yards,” Brock said.

  He didn’t disagree with Brock—the man outshot him almost every time—he just didn’t like going in without his gun. His newfound power gave him some confidence, but he still didn’t know how to control it.
The blisters on his hand seemed to have shrunk, and the redness died down. He chanced flexing the fingers and was able to move them without much trouble.

  The truck shook again, this time with more force.

  Toby pulled the radio from his pocket. The expression on Brock’s face matched Toby’s thoughts, and the man nodded.

  “Worth a shot,” Toby said.

  He keyed the push-to-talk button. A faint beep sounded off from the bed of the truck.

  “And there you have it,” Toby said. “Chuck, you there?”

  Nothing.

  They moved a little closer until the site was a comfortable shooting distance away. Toby unslung his rifle and handed it over to Brock along with his possibles bag, which had all of his powder, patches, and bullets. Brock handed over his tomahawk, but when Toby tried to take it from him, Brock’s grip tightened on the weapon, and he pulled Toby in close.

  “If shit goes south, hightail it out of there. I’ll keep you covered, but remember, after two shots, you’re on your own,” Brock said. His voice came across as a whisper. “I’m not dying for you.”

  He wanted to wrench the tomahawk away and bury it deep in Brock’s skull. Toby could almost hear the crack of metal against bone. The corners of his mouth twitched in a small smile, but he suppressed the feeling. Where were these thoughts coming from? Like everything else that happened as of late, he didn’t like it. Furthermore, he didn’t like how happy the thoughts made him. Perhaps it was the stress.

  “Keep your eyes open and your trigger finger ready,” Toby said.

  He left Brock behind and snuck closer to the campsite. The sun dipped low toward the mountain peaks, and the warm light receded into the shadows. It wouldn’t be much longer before the darkness embraced the woods. For the moment, Toby took advantage of the gloom and did what he could to stay out of sight.

  The smell of burnt rubber filtered into his senses as he inched closer to the camp. It stung his eyes, and they started to water.

  As the sun’s rays withdrew, the campsite took on a sinister edge. Every dark shadow contained a set of pig-like eyes watching him. Behind every tree, Dave waited to greet him with empty eye sockets and a gaping grin. The chair Dave’s body once occupied dominated his thoughts. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what had taken Dave.