by Mark Tufo
CHAPTER 5 - Mike Journal Entry Four
“What the hell is that?” I asked Oggie, looking at the figure of what looked like a prone man on the ground, but he didn’t look quite right. I approached slowly, looking around for signs of a trap. There was a large tree moved off to the side.
“Oh, friggin’ gross,” I said, turning away when I got close.
A man whose skull had been crushed was on the ground. Gray matter was spread in a circle outwards from whatever had done this. My first thought was giants, giants with large wooden clubs.
“Not out of the realm of possibilities,” I told Oggie. “Let’s get out of here.” He sniffed around the area and barked in reply. “Yeah, I know they went this way,” I told him. “I can almost smell her treachery.” Oggie whined.
For two days I tirelessly followed them, only stopping long enough to hoist Oggie up in my arms occasionally so he could sleep. With his paws draped over my shoulders he would snore. I could not remember when I had been so happy in a very long time. Happy to have his companionship, even if that entailed the back of my tattered jacket getting soaked as he drooled while he slept, or snored so loud I could barely keep an ear out for anything that might be sharing the woods with us. He would awaken happy and, with one large swath of his tongue across my face, I would let him down so he could hunt for his breakfast.
I could only believe that Azile and Tomas were not stopping as well, otherwise I would have caught up to them that first night. She was running, she knew I was behind her and she was afraid! And then I laughed at that thought, I had yet to meet a woman that was afraid of me.
“She’s moving at this pace because she has to,” I said aloud. I surveyed the woods more carefully this time, trying to determine if what she was so concerned about was out there even now…watching.
Oggie trotted up a few minutes later as I leaned against a tree. “What you got there?” I asked him. He looked down as I approached, and he dropped a squirrel leg. A chicken claw had more meat on it. “Hungry?” I asked him. It’s alright, you don’t need to find me food anymore, I said as I rubbed his head. He grabbed the leg and headed back off. “Not too much longer,” I told him. I wanted to be off soon. Wherever Azile was going in such a rush, I wanted to be there as well.
It was midday, on the third day, when we finally came out of the woods. I had to admit it was something special to finally see the sun not cloaked behind a curtain of leaves. I had found myself once again on an old highway. This was grown over in parts, but it wasn’t in nearly as rough a shape as I-95 had been. I was semi-convinced that this was Interstate 80, no real way to tell until I hit a toll booth. The world may have collapsed, but somebody, somewhere, would always be collecting tax.
A hawk circled high overhead. I could see smoke to my left, most likely a settlement of some sort. I watched for a moment as the smoke drifted lazily. A good day’s march, and then what? Just grab an old man and have myself a little drink at his expense? Oggie was running around enjoying the wide-open space. I waited until he had wiped himself out. It had become a routine with us. He would come up to me, tongue hanging out, then he’d sit on his butt in front of me and bark. This was my cue, to bend down and pick him up. Half the time now he wasn’t even falling asleep he just enjoyed the ride. Who wouldn’t? If he could have done the same for me I would have taken him up on it.
Occasionally I would ‘stretch’ my mind out in an attempt to pick up on the telepathic link me and Tommy shared. It was like I was in a continual dead spot, if I had to place a bet, then good money would be on Azile throwing up some sort of interference. Friggin witches messing shit up since the Medieval times. Should probably make that into a bumper sticker.