by Mia Frances
Alex looked off in each direction, trying to decide which way they'd gone. There was nothing in the books she'd read that covered this. She thought about it a moment, finally deciding it was logical to assume that an object moving through tall grass would force the stalks down pointing in the direction they were going. She'd have been more certain of that if she'd seen a hoof print, but the ground was too hard. What little snow there'd been had been blown away by the wind. She knew they had to be around here somewhere, it was just a matter of finding them.
Alex moved slowly through the brush, wincing with every crunch, wondering how hunters managed to sneak up on their prey without being heard. Every few hundred feet she'd stop and listen, hoping to hear something on the trail ahead, but evidently the animals were more adept than she was at playing hide and seek. There wasn't a sound, not the click of a single hoof, not a breaking branch, not anything. She kept looking for some sign that they'd been browsing along the way, but nothing appeared to be disturbed.
She'd come nearly three quarters of a mile. Ahead the forest was thinning as trees gave way to marsh. She stopped at the top of a rise, eyes straining, hoping to catch a glimpse of a fat buck; but there was still no sign of the animals. She went on, the hard ground seeming to soften as grass gave way to cushiony moss. The trail she followed ended here. She had to find some real tracks or her efforts would be wasted. She squatted, searching for some clue as to the direction they'd taken. A few feet away she could see a slight depression in the snow-dusted moss. Alex hurried over to get a better look. Something heavy had passed this way. She moved slowly; following the tracks down the slope to a place where mounds of blown snow clung in patches to the hillside. The indentations seemed to be getting larger and deeper. Almost too large! Not that she was an expert on animals, but it seemed to her as though something bigger than a deer had made them. Much bigger. A moose maybe? After a nearly 100-year absence, they'd begun returning to the Adirondacks in the 1980s.
At the edge of a little pile of snow, Alex saw what appeared to be a track and moved closer to investigate. She shook her head. How stupid was she? She'd was heading in the wrong direction. The curved indentation was facing back the way she'd come. She studied it a moment, bewildered. It didn't make sense; the grass was bent in the opposite direction. The animals certainly hadn't been walking backward all this way.
She examined the depression with her fingers, suddenly worried. This wasn't a deer track. Deer had split hooves. This was probably made by a black bear. A partial imprint of its heel. Though shouldn't it be more rounded, less sharp, less distinct? She looked for evidence of claw marks, but couldn't find any. Alex was in no position to tangle with a bear. It was freezing cold out, why wasn't it curled up in a cave hibernating? She took another step forward, and then stopped. The hackles on the back of her neck rose as soon as she saw the tracks in the snow ahead. There was no mistaking what they were, the heels and jagged tread of heavy boots. She'd been following men, not animals! She spun around and clambered back up the slope, moss and snow slipping beneath her feet.
Safely at the top, she dove for the cover into the brush and high grass, heart pounding. She'd been out in the open all this time; could have been spotted a hundred times over. Alex lay perfectly still, afraid to move a muscle. She hadn't counted, but from the look of it, there were several sets of tracks, all coming from different directions. Fighting back panic, she tried to think. It was probably just a hunting party in search of game. That would account for all the trampled grass. She lay there a long time, scared to get up, worried she'd be seen, if she hadn't already.
Alex got on her knees and peeked over the grass, trying to see if anything looked even vaguely familiar. It didn't. If she wanted to get back to camp, she'd have to follow the same path. As dangerous as that was, it was the only way. She took comfort in the fact that she'd been following them and not the other way around. If they'd always been ahead of her, perhaps they hadn't spotted her. She slowly scanned the surrounding area, pausing to study each swaying branch, every trembling bush. Satisfied that they were nowhere in sight, Alex got to her feet and began following the path back.
Thoughts raced through her head as she hurried through the woods. Her biggest fear was that they'd seen the sled and realized that someone else was in the forest. Why had she been so careless? Why hadn't she hidden it? She vowed that if she made it home safe and sound, she'd confine all her future foraging to the wilderness side of the camp and never venture in the direction of the highway again. Thank God they hadn't followed her trail; but then the ground was hard and rocky and she was sticking close to cover, swerving in and around the trees. As small as she was and with the plant growth in that inhospitable soil being short, scrawny and sparse, maybe they never even noticed that someone had wandered through. Still, there was the problem of the sled. She'd left it out in the open on the trail that lead back to the camp. How stupid was that? She needed to remedy that error, but she had few options. Alex could either eradicate the evidence by dragging branches behind her, lifting the brush up, giving the illusion that nothing had passed that way, hoping they wouldn't stumble on the well-worn path deeper in the woods; or she could lay a false trail leading off toward the highway.
Maybe she was worrying for nothing. Could be they hadn't seen anything. The trampled grass was more than 100 feet from the sled. If they weren't specifically looking for it, there was a good chance they might not have noticed. Half of it was hidden from view behind the trunk of a large tree and the brown basket could, at a quick glance, be mistaken for a bush. She breathed a bit easier. Besides, even assuming the worst, that they had actually seen it, they'd headed away from it. That could only mean that they were just as wary of encountering strangers in the woods as she was.
Alex had come a long way. The end of the trail had to be close. She'd neither heard nor seen anything moving around in the forest, leading her to believe that the situation was far less ominous than she'd first thought.
She looked up at the sky, wondering when the dark clouds would dissipate. It had been over two months, yet the heavens hadn't cleared, blue skies were just a memory. The sun was up there, she could sometimes see it glowing behind the grey shroud. Every day was overcast, no sunshine, just muted light. The clouds were thick with the dust and debris thrown up by the bombs and the smoke, soot, and ash of distant incinerated cities. It wasn't nearly as bad as the darkness some theorists had warned of, but maybe the war hadn't been the all-out conflagration everyone feared. She'd read a post-apocalyptic romance novel years ago about the nuclear winter that would follow an atomic war, the months of constant darkness, the frigid cold, the dying plant and animal life. It was cold, much colder then normal for early winter, but the subzero temperatures of 30 and 40 below that they'd predicted in the book hadn't materialized. The premise of the story was that if the bombs were dropped in summer, most plant life would be destroyed by the freezing cold. The world would never recover. The earth becoming a barren wasteland. Animals starving; the food chain destroyed. Needless to say the story didn't have a happy ending. It might be a strange stroke of luck that this war happened in autumn, when plants had already begun to wither and form seeds; and the animals, fat from a summer of feasting, were prepared for the long winter ahead. She wondered how long the dark clouds would stay; how long before the sun would appear again in all its glory, brilliantly shining against a backdrop of blue. It might be just her imagination, but she thought the clouds were less gloomy, less threatening today, than they'd been yesterday. Was the pall lifting? She certainly hoped so!
Up ahead were large areas of trampled grass. This was it! This was where she'd started. She felt a sense of relief seeing familiar surroundings. Alex began looking around for a branchy piece of deadfall. Finding a suitable one, she began raking the grass up until not a single bent stalk remained to indicate that the area had ever been disturbed. Their tracks, her tracks, everything had to be erased. She was taking no chances in case they came back this way. Seei
ng how she'd managed to botch things up thus far, it was better to err on the side of caution rather than have it come back to bite her in the ass.
After only a few minutes, all trace of the tracks were gone. Dragging the branch behind her, she trudged to the waiting sled, angered that in her absence one of the baskets had tipped over, spewing its contents all over the ground. She threw down the piece of wood and knelt beside the sled, frowning and muttering curses as she tried to right the container and gather up the roots and fruit. She was busily tossing them back into the sled when she heard something that brought her springing to her feet. It had come from behind her, the click of metal on metal, the sickening sound of someone cocking a gun. Petrified, she turned to confront the threat. Silhouetted amid the trees was a dark figure. She bolted, crashing through a wall of brush as she tried to escape. From behind her a voice yelled out, "Over here."
Alex half-ran, half-slipped down the embankment, her thoughts focused on the children. Whatever happened, she mustn't put them in jeopardy! She had to lead the strangers off into the woods, away from the path, away from the camp. Around her the forest was alive with sound. Twigs snapping. The thud of running footsteps. They were surrounding her. The grasses, brush, and trees sped by as she raced to elude them. All the sound seemed to be coming from behind her. She forced herself to go faster, arms flailing as she pushed branches out of her way. She could hear them closing in from both her right and her left. Terrified, her eyes darted frantically from side to side, looking for a way to escape. She veered toward a dense cluster of pines where there was more cover. In the open areas of brush and grass she'd be exposed; they'd be able to see her. Hidden by the boughs, however, they'd have a hard time following her.
Plunging through the dense undergrowth of bushes and saplings, she made her way toward the maze of trees. They'd be hard pressed to find her in there. A loud crack of gunfire echoed through the forest. They were shooting at her! Fear didn't slow her, her feet moving faster and faster until she finally pushed her way into the sheltering embrace of soft-needled branches. Her breath was coming in gasps, but she didn't dare stop. She had to put more distance between her and them. She moved quickly, staying hidden in the greenery. A bullet ricocheted off the trees, causing her to duck for cover. Surely they couldn't see her. They were shooting blindly, trying to terrorize her, stop her in her tracks, but she kept running, zigzagging through the trees.
Alex had gotten completely turned around, having no idea whether she was going north or south, east or west. She could see little beyond the pillars of green. The ground was sloping. To go up would require more strength than she had, giving them time to catch up. She opted to follow the incline down.
She slipped and slid on the carpet of pine needles, only maintaining her footing by grabbing at branches. It was far steeper than she thought. She had to fight to keep from falling. She could hear them yelling to each other in the distance, searching the trees for some sign of her. Knowing that she'd managed to escape them thus far didn't ease her fear. Her feet were gouging scars in the hill as she tried to negotiate the slope, disturbing the leaf litter and trampling the scrub. She could only hope that by the time they discovered the tracks, she'd already be safely away.
Below and to the right she caught a quick glimpse of shifting branches. A spasm of pain seized her chest, squeezing the air from her lungs. There was something moving behind them, a tall dark figure. She stopped her downward slide, letting her body drop like a leaden weight to the ground. He couldn't fire at what he couldn't see. She lay there, afraid to move; then, gathering her courage, began crawling toward the safety of a large spit of rock. On her knees behind it, shielded from sight, she peered around the jagged edge. He was coming closer; she could see glimpses of bright orange pushing through the branches. He was heading right for her!
Her hand trembled as it reached into her belt and withdrew the ax. She crouched behind the rock, waiting for him to clear the trees. The sound of his stomping feet, filling her with dread. She could see part of his head now. He was coming out. She slowly straightened up, her head and upper torso emerging from behind the rock. She observed him closely, the leering grin, the threatening posture. She didn't move as he came closer, brandishing a long-bladed hunting knife. His lips were moving; he was saying something, but she couldn't hear what it was. Her hand gripped the ax. Only a few steps more. His smile was grotesque. He was missing teeth. His cruel, thin lips were covered with scabs and sores. He stopped 20 feet away from her. He was shouting and glowering.
What happened next seemed almost surreal, as though it had been captured in the lens of a slow motion camera. She lifted the ax from behind the rock. His expression changed, eyes widening in surprise, his smile fading. Sensing danger, he turned. Her arm swung back, then, taking aim, it snapped forward, sending the ax whizzing through the air. There was a scream of pain as the ax plunged into his back just beneath the right shoulder blade. He staggered, arms reaching back, fingers clawing at his shoulder, trying to dislodge it. Blood was soaking through his jacket as he fell forward moaning. She could hear people yelling. Her eyes darted from her wounded attacker to the hilltop. They were coming. Sobbing hysterically, Alex took off running.
She lost her balance on the slope, feet slipping on the leaves. Alex pitched forward, trying to grab onto something to stop her downward slide, but her fingers were clutching at air. She tumbled and rolled, her skin getting scratched and bruised as she bounced over rocks. She crashed into a low-growing bush, but the weight of her body snapped the thin wood. Colors spun around her, vision blurring as she tumbled into a thicket. Thorns ripped her hands and cut her face as she tried in vain to hold onto something. Suddenly, ground gave way to air; she was falling! Alex screamed, arms flailing in the wind, as a wall of rock flashed by. Branches scraped her legs. All at once she felt something hit her back. Wood cracked and splintered, crunched and snapped. The smell of pine was all around her, as cradling boughs caught her, then broke under her weight, until finally she landed with a thud on the ground below.
All she could see above her was an undulating green wall. She tried to breathe, but the very act sent stabbing pains through her chest. It felt as though knives were piercing her lungs. Afraid to move, she lay there a moment, waiting for the pain to subside. After a second, she found that if she only took in a little air, the pain was bearable. Her vision began to clear. She could see the cliff rising up above the tree tops some 30 feet or more. She reached out her arms to touch the branches that lay around her. They'd broken her fall. She ached all over, but she was alive.
Alex stretched her legs cautiously. They hurt, but she was pretty sure nothing was broken. Her arms were badly bruised, hands scraped up, but the injuries weren't serious. She rolled over onto her side, wincing as pain enveloped her back and shoulders. She tried to sit up, but it hurt too much, so she turned onto her stomach and slowly struggled to her knees. She forced herself to breathe more deeply, the pain abating a little. Her ribs were bruised. Sore, but not broken. She'd gotten the wind knocked out of her, that's all. Alex tried to stand, but her head was reeling. By sheer will, she forced herself to her feet. She had to get out of here! The cliff wouldn't keep the wolves at bay for long; especially not now that the game had grown deadly. She'd injured, maybe even killed, one of their comrades. Whatever their motives had once been, they'd be seeking revenge now.
She staggered out from beneath the trees, every step causing pain. Alex looked around bewildered and frightened; where was she? Which way should she go? The forest was thinner ahead and to her left. To her right the pines were thick and lush. She searched the sky for the location of the sun. There was a faint glow hovering above the hills. It was late in the day, so that had to be west. She turned her back to the cliff; to the left, that was north, the highway, to the right was south and the camp, and straight ahead, that was the old rutted road and Callahan's. She veered left hoping she could lose them near the highway.
Alex limped between the trees, listen
ing for the warning sounds of their approach. The wind had kicked up, so it would be hard to hear their footsteps or voices. She'd only walked a quarter mile, if even that, but it felt as though she'd been walking forever. The first shadows of day's end had begun to cloak the mountains. In little more than an hour, night would descend. They might give up the search then and let her be. Maybe they already had. She kept trying to convince herself that she hadn't killed the man, that he'd merely been wounded, that there was a good chance he'd recover, that he'd live. But she couldn't make herself believe it. There'd been too much blood. It had been a mortal wound; he'd been dying even as he thrashed around before her eyes. She knew it then, she knew it now. She hadn't meant to kill him, but he was threatening her, brandishing a knife. She was afraid. There'd been no other way!
There was a clap of thunder as something struck the side of her head. She let out an anguished scream of pain, clutching her hand tightly to her temple. Blood oozed out between her fingers, as running footsteps converged on their prey. Alex staggered, then fell unconscious to the ground.