by Aaron Hubble
“Yes, sir. How long are we to remain in the forest?”
Shepherd laughed. “Until we call you back. Check in every day and we’ll let you know when it’s time to come home. Shepherd out.”
“Fantastic. Just great.” Dillon kicked a rock across the ground and cursed at the trees.
Parker smirked. “Problems, Commander?”
Dillon forced a mock smile. “No problems as long as you like camping.”
****
Dillon traced the barely discernible footprints in the soft soil. The leaves were disturbed here, and he could make out several distinct sets of tracks and depressions left by the pack animals. Making a slow scan of the surrounding area, his keen eyes saw the fragments of rotted wood scattered around a log. Someone had sat there, most likely more than one. He moved over to the log. Several dark spots grabbed his attention. He reached out a gloved hand and touched the congealing droplets of liquid.
Blood.
At least one of the natives had been hurt during the initial skirmish. Maybe they would get lucky and injuries would slow the group down.
Morris hunkered down beside him. “One of them is hurt?”
Dillon rubbed his fingers together, smearing the blood. “Yep. They aren’t being too careful about leaving a trail. I get the feeling they don’t know we’re following them.”
“Or we’re dealing with panicked people who have no experience in the forest,” Morris said. “We lost an hour talking to Shepherd and loading up the females we captured, but we gained a little time by them stopping here. If we hurry, we may be able to catch up by tomorrow.”
“The only problem we may have is if they jumped on those pack animals. They could use them to put more distance between us. Hopefully, they aren’t worried about us and take their sweet time.”
Dillon stood and looked at his men. Eight had come with him. They’d left Kane with the ship to load the females. Dillon figured it would give his hand time to heal. He had told Pilot to remain in the area for several days in case they were able to reacquire the females they had lost. No sense in sending the ship away when they might need it again soon.
Dillon raised his voice. “Shoulder your gear and let’s move. The indigenous have a bit of a lead, so I’m going to push you today. Let’s see if this CPF tech can sustain a high-speed march through a forest. Head out.”
Leading them out in a northerly direction, Dillon took off at a jog, his legs pounding through the dense underbrush. The thrill of the hunt sent adrenaline coursing through his body. He reveled in the feeling, no doubt enhanced by the CPF tech embedded in his body. He was a predator, and the CPF had made sure he was the best one they could produce.
****
Through the cover of a dense stand of scrub brush, Maltoki watched the soldiers leave the clearing at a jog. He shuddered at the bristling weapons slung over their shoulders. This was what he had feared and why he had convinced Calier he should double back and see if they were being followed. He had thought there was a good chance they would be. The invaders didn’t just kill, they were capturing as well.
Maltoki waited until they were out of sight and then pushed his way through the underbrush and mounted the kneeling umbaku. He would make a wide arc around the path he knew the soldiers would take, staying hidden in the dense trees until he intersected the path of his friends once again.
He knew the group would be keeping a steady pace, but they needed to go faster now that they were being followed. They would need to come up with some way to shake the soldiers. They couldn’t fight them, that much was obvious.
He squeezed his knees and clucked his tongue. The umbaku leapt out of the underbrush and into action. He leaned forward, urging it to more speed, desperate to reach his friends before the soldiers did.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
The sojourners moved quickly and quietly through the forest. Denar assumed the soldiers were right behind them, and he was setting a brisk pace. No one spoke. They had come face-to-face with the enemy and lost several of their own. Again, they had been robbed of the opportunity to mourn. Survival had become their default setting, and it now consumed them. They were all exhausted, every footstep labored, but they pushed on knowing at any moment their lives might be taken. Calier felt he should be encouraging everyone to keep their heads up and move a bit quicker, but the rah-rah cheerleader just wasn’t in him this day.
There was a dull ache in his stomach as he thought of the four people who only hours ago had been walking beside him, helping gather food and water and adding life to the group. The faces of the men who had been killed flickered through his mind, - Kan and Bormar. Both were honorable men, hard workers and brave in the face of adversity. He wondered if they might be the lucky ones. Compared to what could befall Mina and Sulhan, death might be preferable.
The young boy, Anoki, walked with his head down. How did you comfort someone who has lost so much? Yesterday he had walked with his parents, Sulhan and Bormar, and now he trudged the path of Sho’el in the company of friends, yet all alone.
Counting Nasia and Tehome, six had been snatched away in Sho’el.
The same rage and grief Calier had felt while watching students being gunned down at the university welled up inside him again. It surprised him, and he fought to control the malice and hate. He knew if there had been any invaders within his sight, he would have torn them apart with his bare hands.
He hated the feeling. Hated it with all that was in him.
The red haze of rage slipped away as he heard the soft, padded thumping of umbaku hooves coming toward them at high speed.
Maltoki reined in the beast and lightly slid off the animal before it had come to a complete stop. A wild, harried look flashed in his silver eyes.
“Professor, we’ve got to move. The soldiers are following us.”
Calier felt like someone had just slapped him across the face. They weren’t satisfied with murdering and kidnapping some of his friends; they were out to finish the job.
Gasps and strangled sobs rose from the group as they assembled around Maltoki.
Ibris shouldered his way to Maltoki’s side. “How much of a lead do we have on them, son?”
“Not much. Maybe an hour by now. The last I saw of them, they were headed in this direction at a jog. It won’t be long before they gain on us.”
Ibris put his hands on his hips and let out a long breath. “If only we had all our umbaku. We could put some distance between us and them if we were all on an animal. As it is, we have two adults and Chan’ti.”
“What if we head toward the river? If there’s a good place to cross, we can put the river between us and them,” said Onan.
Calier nodded. “Not a bad plan.”
Onan continued. “I used to hunt timber cats, and not only would they cross the river to throw me off their trail, they would do it multiple times just to create confusion. It might work for us as well.”
The group was silent for a moment. Calier felt hopelessness snaking its way through the group like an early morning mist. It was trying to wrap itself around them and strangle any hope they had left.
Berit must have felt it as well. She clapped her hands several times, waking the group out of its stupor. “The longer we stand here, the closer they get. I’m not ready to give up yet. I’ve lost too much, and I’m unwilling to lose any more to those who know nothing of what it is to be Am’Segid. We run, we swim, we wade until we find safety or the murderers catch us, but we never give up.”
Denar stepped forward. “Come on. Amer and Oyeb, up on the umbaku. Rohab, get your boys on one as well.” He shouldered his crossbow. “To the river, people.”
****
Dillon’s heart pumped keeping time with his legs as they pushed him through the forest on the trail of his prey.
The last time the squad had stopped, the tracks indicated the group of indigenous was moving faster. Somehow they had gotten wind of their predators and picked up speed. Their path had also diverted to the e
ast. Perhaps they knew something he did not.
Perhaps they were moving toward some safe haven.
Or maybe they were leading him and his men into an ambush.
Wherever the indigenous were leading them, Dillon was duty-bound to follow.
****
Calier held his pack on top of his head and waded through waist-deep water. The current of the Tefillia was much slower here and they had little difficulty fording the river. Everyone had made it across except him and Denar. Denar had volunteered to be the rear guard, hanging back to keep watch for any signs of the soldiers.
Slogging up the bank, Calier saw Berit bent at the waist and struggling to breathe. Moving to her side, he laid a hand on her back.
“Hey, are you okay?”
She held up a hand and drew in one long breath and then exhaled. Standing straighter, she flashed Calier a smile. “Far from it, but I’ll survive.”
“Telling you to not push yourself isn’t an option, so I’ll refrain. Why don’t you let me carry your pack? It will lighten the load on your legs.”
“No, I’ve got it. It isn’t heavy. The pack isn’t what’s making me tired.”
Calier nodded, understanding the lack of food and exhaustion of the previous three weeks had weakened them all.
“If you change your mind, let me know,” Calier said.
“I will,” she said.
The others were moving off into the woods, following the course of the river back to the north.
“Let’s go. We’re going to cross the river again in a couple of miles,” Calier said.
“Fantastic,” said Berit. “Can’t wait.”
****
“They crossed the river.”
Dillon nodded and looked at Morris. “They’re trying to slow us down and throw us off the trail. What I don’t know is what they’re trying to get to.”
Morris wiped the sweat from his forehead onto his shirtsleeve. “Do you think there are other people in here we don’t know of?”
Dillon shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine. Let’s get across this water and find the trail on the other side.”
Dillon entered the water and powered his way across the river. On the other side he surged into the forest feeling a renewed energy. There was nothing like a hunt.
****
Calier was exhausted. He was sure someone had strapped cement blocks to his feet, because picking them up and putting them down had become an effort he was unsure he could sustain much longer.
Their pace had slowed.
Considerably.
He was frightened it would only be a matter of time before he heard the report of rifles behind him and once again watched as his friends fell around him.
They crossed the river twice, trying to throw the soldiers off and gain some precious time. Crossing again was no longer an option as the Tefillia had grown wider and deeper the further north they pushed. For better or worse they were stuck on the west side of the river.
Behind him something pushed through the brush. Denar ran toward him, breathless.
“They…are…close.”
Calier’s stomach sank. All they had done had proven fruitless. Their pursuers were on their heels and were not giving up.
Forcing his legs to move faster, he jogged up the line and shouted, “They’re almost on us. We need to move faster!”
He didn’t know where they would go. Nor did he know if there was anything they could do to prevent the inevitable, but he was going to try. He still believed in miracles.
****
They were close.
Dillon could feel it. If he had been a hunting dog, he would have lifted his head and let out a loud, clear bay. As it was, the knowledge his quarry was mere minutes away gave him a burst of energy and he picked up the pace.
Activating the comm, he spoke to the others. “When we have visual contact, pick a target and eliminate the males. Parker will take down the females. Spread out. Put several yards between yourself and the next man. Pilot, we are closing in on the indigenous. Get the bird in the air and move toward our location. We’ll probably need you to extract our take-downs.”
“Yes, Commander.”
Silently, his men fanned out according to his instructions.
The anticipation of the final confrontation thrilled Dillon. This was what a predator lived for, and he was the ultimate hunter.
****
Even though he had been expecting them, the first shots surprised Calier.
The sharp sound rang out in the forest and sent birds winging their way through the evening. He saw Maltoki duck his head as wood from a nearby tree exploded and sent splinters careening through the air. It was a near miss.
Screams of terror rose from the group. Fueled by adrenaline and fear, those being chased found a little extra energy and ran deeper into the forest.
Several more shots came in quick succession.
Something red hot-ripped through Calier’s shoulder. Stumbling, he dropped his pack and tumbled to the ground. It felt as if someone had stuffed coals from a campfire under his skin. He skidded to a stop and spit out a gritty mouthful of dirt and leaves. Fear for his life and the lives of his friends allowed him to block out the pain. His arm hung at his side, blood beginning to saturate his shirt near the shoulder.
Denar and Ibris turned and knelt, letting loose two bolts from their crossbows. He didn’t know if they had done any damage. It didn’t matter anymore. Pretty soon it would all be over and this nightmare would come to an end. He almost wished the bullet that had taken him in the shoulder had been a little better aimed. Then he wouldn’t have to watch his friends die around him.
A new fear turned his stomach. Berit wasn’t one of those running ahead of him. He turned his head and looked behind him. Berit was only a few steps behind him. He beckoned to her and screamed, “Hurry, Berit!”
She picked up speed as he slowed down to wait for her, hoping to cover her back with his own body.
Berit’s steps faltered and her eyes grew wide. Spasms wracked her body and she pitched to the ground, twitching. A feathered dart protruded from her neck.
“No!” he shouted. Calier reversed direction and sprinted toward his fallen friend. He couldn’t let this happen to her. Not this way. He couldn’t watch her be taken away.
To his left, Calier caught movement in the brush. Several figures dressed in dark green hoods stood and leveled weapons in his direction. Time seemed to slow and the world went silent. The feeling of utter defeat permeated his mind and body. At that moment, Calier gave up and accepted they’d been trapped. The soldiers had split their numbers and part of the group had chased them toward their waiting comrades.
He heard the report of rifles in front of him.
Still he stood.
He looked down, expecting to see blood leaking from a mortal wound. All he saw was the blood from the wound on his shoulder. Confusion flowed through his brain.
Why was he not dead?
The weapons fire behind him stopped, and he turned to see several soldiers lying on the ground bleeding; the rest were scattering into the trees for cover.
What had just happened? He looked around and saw several more green-hooded figures stand and shoot toward the soldiers. Calier shook himself out of his stupor and sprinted in Berit’s direction.
The all-too-familiar roar of ship engines bent tree limbs and blasted Calier with dirt. The invader ship was moving in fast and laying down cover fire. He dove to the ground and rolled behind a tree, his shoulder screaming in protest.
A soldier had taken the opportunity offered by the arrival of the ship to reach Berit, hoist her onto his shoulder and carry her into the forest.
Calier stood and began moving after the man carrying Berit. A strong grip on his arm pulled him back to the ground. He struggled, but with only one good arm, he was no match for the man who held him down. The sound of gunfire nearly deafened him. The man who now lay on top on him squeezed off several rounds.
&nb
sp; The soldiers had regrouped and were now advancing toward the hooded figures. Calier was roughly pulled to his feet and dragged back toward the position held by these new players.
He tried to fight against the man’s hold. After all she had been through, Berit couldn’t be left behind this way. However, his injuries and the exhaustion of the flight through the forest had left him with very little strength. He succumbed to the force of the man and let himself be dragged toward the hooded men in the brush.
Looking back, he saw Kohena helping Onan pick Amer off the ground. The umbaku she had been on bolted at the sound of the gunfire, throwing her to the ground. The two older men were dragging the woman toward the hooded figures when rounds from the ship pierced their backs and they fell to the ground unmoving. Calier could see the red of their life blood on their torn-open backs.
“No!” he screamed. He tried to pull away from the man who was dragging him along, but his grip was too strong. Rage welled within him. Three people whose wisdom and experience were invaluable had been taken away from them. Struggling against the man once more, he tried to reach his friends, but the man continued to direct him toward his green-hooded comrades.
How was this new group of soldiers going to save them? There was no safety from the ship. In fact, they were in as much peril as they had ever been. The enemy ship continued to lay down fire, ripping the trees apart. The soldiers in black had regrouped and were quickly moving toward the brush he had just been dragged into.
The man who held his arm in an vise-like grip unceremoniously shoved him to the ground. In front of him another figure in green leveled a large tripod-mounted weapon over Calier’s head. A moment later, he saw a projectile streak from the weapon, and an explosion shook the air around him. He rolled and saw the ship begin to spin. Black smoke and fire billowed from a large hole in the hull. The ship roared over their heads and disappeared from view. Seconds later, a dull explosion reverberated through the ground. The ship had crashed.
Still the soldiers advanced. Undeterred by the loss of their ride, the men continued to aim and fire. Calier was dragged into the trees and saw hooded figures herding the rest of his friends deeper into the forest.