Chance knew it would be easy for the great American predator to find him. Fear did not allow him to stand still so he pressed forward. Suddenly the American alligator sprang up from the swamp, and Chance dodged out of the way. The reptilian behemoth latched onto his assault rifle and started its death roll. The muddy water swallowed Chance, as the beast began its cycle of death. Chance tried to scream, but the murky water filled his mouth. While its snout was oriented elsewhere, it did not prevent the danger of the giant tail that followed. The tail was too close for full swing against Chance, but it did slam the base of its back foot and tail into Chance's head. As the alligator did its roll, the sling on the weapon got tighter. And from the revolutions, the tie down on his night vision goggles tightened around his throat. The thin rope began to cut into his neck and cut off his circulation.
He had heard it called "seeing the wizard," flashes of light and colors began to cloud his eyesight as the equipment choked him. Now feeling weak, Chance still managed to use his free hand to pull the chords that strangled him. Gathering his thoughts, he pulled the Bowie knife from his sheath, then he stabbed the alligator with the bowie knife. The gator continued its role and Chance continued to stick the knife into it.
His stabs grew weaker as less oxygen reached his head. He thrust down, onto to the top of the reptilian beast, but because of his weakness, he could not penetrate the monster's scales. He brought his fist close to his body, and uppercut into the alligator, with the bowie knife first. The blade penetrated the softer underbelly of the gator. He stabbed again. While sticking, Chance cut the strap of his weapon, breaking him free. Then, he thrust again. The gator broke loose and swam away with the assault rifle in its snout.
"I'm alive, thank Providence, I am alive!" he screamed before plunging forward to the Cypress tree. The mud that covered Chance’s entire body slowed his movements, but he knew he had to get out of the swamp and away from the creatures of the Red Slough. Chance saw the Cypress tree, and gathering the last bit of energy he had, he climbed into it, and almost immediately fell asleep.
CHAPTER 8: OKLAHOMA’S MOST WANTED
Gavan - Mccurtain County, Ok
“Sir, you ain’t poaching no gators, are ya?”
Slowly Chance rose from his sleep. He sat up straight with his back against the Cypress tree. There, in front of him, stood a man in some uniform, gun belt, boots, and a cowboy hat. Behind this man was a motorboat that was parked against the base of the tree.
“Sir, you ain’t poaching no gators. Are you?” the man asked again.
“No, I was pulling security. We’re at thirty-three percent security%,” said Chance.
“What’s your name?” asked the man.
“Ranger Freeborne, reporting as ordered,” said Chance. Chance held his mud-covered eyes so wide that the man laughed, at his attempt to gain consciousness.
“Son, where the heck do you think you are…. you ain’t trippin’ on meth, are ya?”
Chance tried to think of where he was.
Immediately his thoughts went to the orcs. He yanked his bowie knife from its sheath and held it up.
"Whoa!" screamed the man, who immediately drew his service pistol, "there is no reason for alarm son. I’m a Fishing and Wildlife agent.”
“Where am I?” asked Chance, “I thought the state pulled all funding from you guys.”
“I am federal,” said the wildlife officer. “What’s the last thing you remember?”
“Ragnog."
“Ragnog? What do you know about Ragnog?" the man's voice went from cordial to intimidating at the utterance of the word. "You ain’t cookin’ up no zeta in these parts are ya? You look like you just survived a lab explosion.”
“No, no.my men - my brothers - they're all..." Chance covered his face with his hands.
The game warden looked around him, unsure of the unraveling situation. "Son, why don't you give me that pig sticker. Come down and have a talk."
"I know what it looks like, but I-I- I have direct contact with Governor Masterson," said Chance.
The warden still had his weapon aimed at Chance. “Son, why don’t you lower that weapon?”
Chance could hear the faint hint of anger in the man’s voice.
“Believe me. I am not cooking up any synthetic drug, though I know I'm in the right area. I was with an organization that served the Governor directly. Ragnog ambushed us. I was the only one to escape," he tried to convince the warden.
“What do you mean Ragnog ambushed you?' Ragnog is pretty bad. So bad federal agents don't even go in there," said the agent, "but it ain’t Mogadishu -”
"No - it's not Mogadishu. It's not something from this world...it's something worse," said Chance.
“Kid, if you’re really in law enforcement, you know this is a pretty tense situation. Now I got a kid up in a tree, lookin’ like he’s stoned out of his mind, with a giant knife covered in blood. How do you think it looks? Give me the knife, let’s talk this over,” said the agent.
Chance grew more alert as the man spoke. He nodded in agreement, and handed the man the knife, before climbing down from the Cypress tree. When Chance got down from the tree, the agent holstered his pistol.
“What’s your name, kid?” asked the agent.
“Chance Freeborne. When can I get that knife back?”
The game warden stepped back from Chance and relayed Chance's information on his radio.
“Can I get that knife?” asked Chance.
“That’s the second time you asked me for it,” said the agent.
“Are you saying you’re not going to give it to me?” asked Chance.
"I'm asking you why I need to."
The agent's eyes lit up as a radio transmission came over his radio. "Did you say your name was Chance Tecumseh Freeborne?”
"Yes," said Chance.
“Go ahead and turn around,” said the agent.
"I work directly with the governor,” said Chance.
“Well, Mr. Masterson ain’t coming to your defense. He is behind the push for your arrest."
Chance felt his skin burn hot as the information shocked him.
"C'mon kid, you're out in the middle of Red Slough, half-naked, and you think I believe you work for Cass Masterson? Give me a break.”
Chance looked at the man, trying to think of what to do next. Finally, he shook his head and whispered, “No.”
The game warden went for his pistol. Chance tackled the warden. He threw his hands out, pinning down the warden's wrists. Both men went to the ground and Chance wrestled to get on top. Chance gained a dominant body position. The warden felt Chance’s hands grab at his gun.. The Smith and Wesson fell from both of them and then landed in the swamp, and submerged in the water. Chance threw an elbow directly at the man's head which rolled back as the man lost consciousness.
Now free, Chance grabbed his knife then ran to the warden's boat. He ran to the back of the powerboat and attempted to prepare it. Chance had not trained with boats before, and as he messed with the engine, the agent had regained consciousness. Chance could hear him moaning and saw him go into the swamp on his hands and knees. Chance's body went hot as he realized what the federal agent was doing. Soon, the agent then pulled a mud-caked pistol from the swamp. The warden aimed the pistol towards the boat and at just that moment Chance fired up the engine and sped away from the scene.
BOOM
One round ripped past him. Chance swerved the boat as he tried to evade the bullets. The game warden fired again, but the mud covered the weapon, forcing it to malfunction. As Chance maneuvered through the swamp, he realized something new. He had just gone from working for the Governor to being an outlaw. The Reserve Officer Training Corps leadership had been right about Masterson the whole time; he was a political animal and had left Chance out to die. That federal agent had almost attempted to arrest Chance, which almost got him killed. Both the agent and Chance could have been slain. Masterson did not even care. He shook his head and beat his fist against hi
s mud-caked thigh.
"I would hate to hear an ‘I told you so,' but at this point, I just want to be alive," said Chance to himself.
Pulling out his compass, he oriented the boat north. He knew he would not be safe in towns, but was confident he could evade authorities in the woods.
“Stay in the woods. And stay alive."
CHAPTER 9: INTO THE OUACHITA MOUNTAINS
Gavan - Mccurtain County, Ok
Chance went north through the Red Slough from the marsh. He went into a wetter area that enabled him to better use the boat. The wind whipped through his hair and beard as he sped away. From there, he leaped out of the boat and continued his movement on foot.
"I think this is Pleasant Hill," said Chance to himself.
Dried mud stuck to his skin. There was a psychological effect from the soil on the flesh, and it almost made him delirious. That eerie feeling of being awake but so exhausted that you are falling asleep standing up and your vision is blurred by the chaotic combination of reality and dreams. On two occasions, Chance had found himself trying to put coins into trees thinking they were vending machines.
When his information got out, Chance believed people would be looking for a muscular, clean-shaven man, but by the time he would get into Haworth, he would be a scruffy, malnourished man. Even now, just from the three days of running with little food, he knew he looked different. The game warden had not stopped him because he recognized him, he stopped him because he had the physical appearance of a Zeta-addict.
Thoughts of food kept him awake, and if he had a pen, he would have written down items from his favorite restaurants. But even stronger than his desire for nourishment was the morbid curiosity he now had for the creatures he had seen in Ragnog. Immediately, he knew what they were; they were archetypal monsters that had hidden in our world forever. Being a lifelong fan of Tolkien and Arrowstorm entertainment, Chance knew what he saw.
They were orcs.
Everyone who had seen the movies and read the books tended to forget something significant. They interpreted the Dark Lord protagonists as the tyrants that they understood, like Saddam Hussein, Adolf Hitler, or Joseph Stalin. But that is not entirely how Tolkien created it. The antagonist of his work was not content with only being a dictator. It wanted something greater. The antagonist demanded to be seen and worshipped as a deity. It made sense that if there were interactions with a new world, there would be a culture shock. The church of Ragnog was Chance's culture shock. He realized that the dark leaders of this old world did not want hearts, minds, and territories as they did in his world. From Ragnog, he knew that the goddess they worshipped wished to own their souls.
"How did this old world come into contact with earth?" asked Chance. "How did this ancient evil end up in Oklahoma?"
“Had others come into contact with this evil?”
He would be all alone. Not only had he witnessed the incursion of another world into Oklahoma, but he was also now an outlaw. Chance realized he was a loose end. He was now a liability to the legislative and political empire that Masterson had created. He felt the heat in his face and the burning of acid in his stomach as he began to hate his former mentor. Chance Freeborne was now a wanted man. Masterson knew Ragnog was a threat, but he was too afraid of whoever had the power in Ragnog.
Cass Masterson was dangerous, but a coward. Ragnog was the real enemy.
“Am I droning?” he asked as he rubbed his eyes in disbelief.
Beavers Bend State Park.
The park’s sign was faded from neglect and apathy.
Telling time had become hard but Chance believed he had marched for two and a half days. He must have gone northwest from Pleasant Hill and drifted towards the now deserted state park.
It was overgrown and looked abandoned. Chance knew there was a chance it was a facility in use by Ragnog or some other criminal organization. But the potential for supplies outweighed the risk of death. He walked around the area until he found a brown, decaying building. He circled the facility, in the shape of a clover-leaf, and then stood still for ten minutes, trying to identify any smell, signs, or sounds of anyone in the building. There were no signs of anyone in the area.
Finally, Chance looked over both shoulders and sprinted towards the building. He looked in the windows and finally pushed in. After turning on the lights, he nearly cried while stepping into the bathroom, indifferent to the smell. Overjoyed by the sight of clean water, he stripped down and washed the filth off his body. He knew he would be putting his soiled clothes back on, but for the moment he didn't care. He soaked his clothes first and then quickly washed the grime off his body. When he was done, he threw his clothes back on, shut off the light in the bathroom and stepped outside.
There was a black V8 truck, with cab and dark tinted windows. Chance cursed himself for not hearing their approach. He ran back to the bathroom and drew his knife from the sheath in the center of the room where he had stowed it. As he did so, the door to the bathroom stall opened and two men immediately entered, followed by two more. In three seconds, four lasers were hovering on his chest. A fifth man entered the room. He was short and stocky and wore tactical clothing and equipment. He also had a baklava that covered his face.
“Chance Freeborne?” asked the man.
They had him dead to rights.
"If you think I am willingly going to let my body be sacrificed to the Witch, you got another thing coming," said Chance and he raised his knife in defiance.
"We're not with that group, Chance," said one of the men behind an assault rifle.
"So Masterson sent you to kill me? Clean up all the loose ends?" asked Chance.
"Well, he did send some hitmen, but they came to quite an untimely end," said the stocky man.
"Let me guess, they went into Ragnog?" asked Chance.
"No, Chance. Unfortunately for them, they didn't. They ran into us," said the stocky figure.
"Yeah, and who are you?"
"People who have seen what you've seen," said the man.
"I find that pretty hard to believe," Chance screamed indignantly.
"You may be the sole survivor of Masterson's illegal group, but you are not a sole survivor of orc attacks, Chance," said the man.
Chance eyes lit up, and he lowered his knife. "I was right," said Chance, "that is what those things were."
"Yeah, Tolkien had it right. And now somehow they are here."
"Are you some kinda law?" asked Chance.
The stocky, swarthy man laughed. "No, Chance. Like you, we are outlaws. Employers generally don't take too kindly to their workforce that has survived encounters with goblins. We are outcasts, we are not the law. You misunderstand our purpose. We fight against Ragnog." The man removed the black mask from his head. “My name is Asher Cries-For-War and we are the Nomads. We are the only hope against Ragnog, and you are one of us now,” he continued.
CHAPTER 10: THE BIRTH OF JON TECUMSEH CHANCE
Gavan - Mccurtain County, Ok
“Why don’t you get cleaned up, and let’s talk,” said Asher.
"I don't think I have much of a choice."
"Well, we can chat with you the way you are, but I'd appreciate if you weren't naked."
For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Chance laughed. His laughter seemed to crack the skin of his cheeks. One of Asher's men threw a set of clothes to Chance, who excitedly put them on. From there, they walked outside and Chance sat down against a tree with his feet bare, letting Asher stand.
"So what happened? How did all this occur?" asked Chance.
"Something opened up their world to ours, but I am not sure how. For the time being, I think that HP Lovecraft and Tolkien were both right. An ancient evil came into our world but the older gods of that world that came to this world were more like the ones from Tolkien's world. Have you ever experienced culture shock before?" asked Asher Cries-For-War.
"Yeah, of course," said Chance.
"When we, as people from this planet, think
of tyrants, we think of dictators," said Asher.
"This Witch-Queen?" asked Chance.
"No. The Witch-Queen is just a foul prophetess or priestess, trying to seduce others into worship. No, she worships the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord is not content with hearts and minds. He wants to be worshipped as a deity. Without sounding melodramatic, he wants her believers' souls," said Asher. “Likewise, this witch is not a goddess; she is a powerful creation, but not a god. However, one of our more metaphysical nomads believes that somehow, she can channel the power from people's mind and their thoughts. So in a way, her followers' ignorant prayers strengthen her, and in turn, we believe she strengthens the Dark Lord."
"That is some scary stuff. So, you are saying if the dark creatures from Tolkien's world came to ours they would want to be worshipped? And that's why the first encounter we had with them was at the church?"
"Exactly," said Asher. "Another point about religion, how did the worshippers respond to your crucifix?"
"Inside the church? Inside the church, they shuddered and spat at the ground as if it made them sick. The orcs, on the other hand simply charged at us like animals. They paid absolutely no mind to the symbol. Why is that?" asked Chance.
"That is exactly how I guessed they would act. The human worshippers know about Christianity, and the goddess is intimidated by Christianity, a religion that would demand so much from its Deity. I will put it this way, the word 'forgiveness' is not in the Witch-Queen's vocabulary," said Asher.
"And the orcs? Are they mindless animals?" asked Chance.
"It would look that way, wouldn't it? But I believe they are kept ignorant of both this world and the older world. To call orcs' beliefs a religion would be giving it too much credence. The orcs follow mysticism and superstition. They obey the Witch-Queen because she commands it, and she has power over them. She may demand to be a goddess, but to me, she is a tyrant," said Asher Cries-For-War.
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