She

by David Duane Kummer

  Grunting and heaving, he raised himself out of the water, finding that when he stood on his feet it still came up to his chest, where his shirt stuck rudely, refusing to budge. Skin dripping and every piece of clothing soaked, he stepped out of the river, onto the opposite side from where he had fallen. Now shivering cold, the darkness seemed more menacing, out here by himself. Teeth chattering, he wondered where his flashlight was. Out here with the moonlight, he could make out vague shapes of things, but nothing substantial. Without Christian, he knew nothing about the wild, or this forest.

  It’s on that side, he thought, peering across the thin, small piece of river that ran straight both ways, before disappearing into the night. Across the river.

  When he had been falling down that hill, he must have dropped his flashlight, which was no surprise with the way he had been flailing around, grabbing at any solid piece of nature. Despite its usefulness and the fact that he needed light, bumbling through that freezing water seemed too terrible. He would rather do his best without the flashlight. Why had he come over here, again? Christian and Crystal were certainly looking for-

  That scream erupted like a volcano, lasting longer and blocking out all of his senses for a few seconds. It was like nails on a chalkboard, the high-pitched frequency. Such a dreadful, nerve wracking sound could only be made by the victim on pain, lots and lots of inhumane torturous pain.

  But he knew the victim. And the sound was much closer than before, maybe a football-field’s length away at most.

  Lilly.

  Forgetting all about the flashlight and ignoring his screaming injuries, he raced ahead down the riverbank. There were less trees, here, and the sudden closeness of his sister propelled him to speeds not before thought possible. Like a flying animal zipping past, the grass tore by him. Every few seconds, that godawful sound again ripped into his flesh, but every time it was closer, closer still.

  “Lilly!” he called out ahead of him, barely managing to shout the word.

  His only answer was another shriek of pain.

  “I’m coming!” he shouted again, losing speed because of the breathing but still determined to communicate. “Don’t worry!”

  “Bubby!” he heard his beloved sister cry out. “Bubby!”

  “I’m coming!”

  “Bubby, she’s-” but Lilly was cut off when she screamed again, mixed with sobbing tears. “It hurts! Bubby, it hurts!”

  “Lilly, hold on! Fight her!”

  “Bubby!” she shrieked in agony one last time, before falling silent.

  “Let her go!” Michael yelled after the witch. He could almost see her now; her presence was as obvious as the river right beside him. “I’ll kill you if you don’t-”

  Michael stopped dead in his tracks. Only moments ago, he could have sworn he heard somebody running up ahead of him. That was when Lilly had still yelled to him. Now, no matter how hard he listened, there was nothing to hear. No feet stamping on the ground, crushing leaves and crackling twigs; no little girl calling out to him in fear and despair. Everything was dead silent.

  “Lilly,” he whispered.

  Adrenaline bolted through him when he heard the coyotes howling on the other side of the river. They raced down the hill he had fallen down; their sounds were unmistakable while swiftly they got nearer. It sounded like a lot, too many. There were hundreds, thousands, millions even.

  No, Michael told himself. Only a few. Only a few.

  The howling got closer, and he could practically feel the teeth baring into his flesh and ripping out his life. Heart pumping, legs screaming in agony, face burning from the lashes of the trees, he began to work his way up the hill, hoping to outdistance them. He saw a show one time on coyotes, which had said that they could not climb trees. If he could find just one tree that he could scale, then the coyotes would not be able to reach him. How would he get down? Well, that show had said something about coyotes not keeping after their prey throughout the day, so in the morning they would leave... at least, he hoped the show said that.

  Wait, he thought with amusement, stopping to look back at the river. He was about halfway up the hill now, but it did not matter. Coyotes don’t swim; that dude on the show said that. What a stroke of luck.

  Now, after just narrowly missing the lady, and escaping coyotes, he felt on top of the world. Sure, he might not have the brains of Christian, and the wilderness might not be his expertise, but he had survived, and that was all it took. If he could survive a night like this, he could get through anything. While he stayed alive, Lilly was as good as saved. In this forest, with only a river to guide him, he would never give up searching. He would kill the lady who took his sister.

  A sudden splash down below stirred him from the peaceful, amusing thoughts of safety. He was surprised and confused, and when he heard more splashing noises and the panting of coyotes, similar to that of dogs. For a minute, he stared unbelievingly at the river down below. They could not be... swimming... across.

  The noise of more splashing water and the coyotes climbing out onto the riverbank unnerved him. The sound of the howl they made, rallying together and then running up the hill, tracking down their prey frightened him. Realizing he was their prey made him turn and sprint up the small hill, begging for some miracle.

  He leapt over a rock, dodged a tree, and pounded into the ground while he was chased up the hill. Finally, he reached the top, but all the trees seemed to be too tall, and the branches too high up. There was no possible way he could get up to that height without a ladder.

  Snarls and barks came from behind Michael, throwing him into a state of sheer panic. Searching one more time, he frantically spotted a tree with a branch jutting out, about the height of a basketball goal rim. Problem was, he could not dunk.

  Desperately, he took a running start and dashed towards it, leaping at the last moment. He was flying through the air, getting closer to it, a speck of hope in his eyes, thinking this could be it. Either he made it or he died; there was no third option. Instead of either, he landed with a thud against the tree trunk, scraping his face on the rough bark and banging his head. Instincts took over, and he wrapped his arms and legs around the trunk, or as far around as they could go.

  For a moment, he thought it would hold, but then his body began to slide down, painfully tearing itself apart on the wooden torture device of a tree. With one, last effort he threw an arm up and felt his fingertips graze the edge of the thick branch. Even though it pained him like nothing else, he bent his ankle awkwardly and used it to kick into the tree, giving him half an inch vertically. That one hand grasped around the branch, while he body finally slipped from the tree trunk. His ankle twinged painfully, while it slammed against the trunk. Now, he was hanging by one arm, ankle sprained terribly, while coyotes dashed onto the top of the hill where he was.

  He swung his other hand up and clenched onto the branch. Pulling himself up, he got an elbow on top of the branch, and then another. Finally lifting his legs, the coyotes jumped up below and tried to grasp him, but failed just an inch short. Using every ounce of muscle left in his body, he repeated the process on a higher branch, while below the wild animals snapped and scraped at the tree, frustrated by their dinner’s desertion.

  Gasping for air, Michael leant against the tree trunk, his legs dangling off to either side. Only then did he feel the clothes sticking to him, soaked with the river water and sweat. They were uncomfortable, but right now worse things bothered him than just the state of his clothes. Now, high up, he dared not look down. It was around twenty-something feet to the ground, and even in the darkness it would have made him queasy and shaky.

  I can’t believe I just did that, he thought, putting a bloody hand to his scraped head. Thank God for adrenaline.

  What a story this will be someday. What a story...

  25. Injuries

  Beams from the morning sun awakened him, throwing him roughly back into the world of pain. His legs were aching beyond belief, his ankle throbbed worryingl
y, and every time he blinked a small jolt of pain sprung around his eye, which was no doubt battered and bruised to a black and blue color. With every joint in his body stiff, he longed to stretch, but did not trust his faltering balance. It was a surprise than he had not fallen sometime in the night, but a welcome surprise.

  “Michael,” he heard somebody call up to him.

  Groaning, he turned his sore neck and looked down to see Christian and Crystal standing there, looking worried and exhausted. Nearly twenty feet down, Crystal still looked beautiful and he could almost feel the worry resonating off of Christian, who stood with his glasses resting loosely on the top of his nose, appearing damaged somewhat.

  “Huh?” he grimaced.

  “We’ve been looking for you all morning?”

  Slumping against the tree, he stared out at the air around the branch, feeling his stomach lurch. “All morning? What time’s it?”

  “Just after noon,” Christian called up. “Come down and we’ll tell you what happened.”

  “I got more to tell,” Michael assured him before carefully getting up on his knees. He winced as more pain shot through him, but that was beginning to be a regular feeling. Besides, at this point he either had to work his way down the tree or fall twenty feet. Falling would break something for sure, and he would have more than a sprained ankle to worry about.

  “Careful,” Crystal begged of him while he lowered down to the branch below.

  Two more to go, he thought, not taking the time to respond.

  The next branch was closer, and although his arm and hand muscles could barely hold onto the branch, his legs did all the work. It helped that he would do anything to avoid falling from this far above ground; already afraid of heights, this was like jumping out an airplane for him.

  A few minutes of tiresome, back-breaking work later, he was on the last branch, ten feet above the ground or so. This was the branch that saved his life last night, the one he barely had made it to. For a split second, he pictured himself hanging here by one hand, only inches away being dragged to the ground and torn apart by coyotes. Now that the danger was gone, he felt terrified of the events, which seemed like something from a nightmare. What a terrible, deathly night it had been.

  “You coming?” Christian asked.

  Michael nodded and prepared to lower himself to the ground. His eyes teared over as his hands slipped, ripping off more flesh and leaving them bare. With a jolt, he fell backwards off the branch, flying ten feet to the ground, where he landed on his lower back. For a moment, he did not feel anything, but then the hurt surged through him. With lungs struggling, he tried to breath but felt no air. For a moment, he wondered if he would die. It felt like he was holding his breath underwater, with no ability to stop, except the air he was suppose to be keeping was not there.

  “Michael!” Crystal exclaimed, rushing over to him. “Are you okay?”

  In a daze, he stayed on his back, staring up at the tree. Had he really just fallen from that branch right there? That was so far, though. Certainly, it was not safe. Would it have broken his back? Was that why everything felt numb and he could not capture any air to breath?

  Christian ran over, kneeling beside him, while Crystal kept calling Michael’s name, waving her hand in front of his face. When he continued to gaze up at the tree, his right eye black as night all the way around and deep cuts marking his face, she dug into her backpack, searching for the first aid kit she had brought.

  “Guys,” Michael finally said, “I can almost dunk.”

  Christian laughed and asked, “That’s what you say first thing?”

  Crystal glared at Michael, who appeared surprised at the hostile gaze. “If your face wasn’t so bad,” she said coldly, “I’d slap you.”

  “Comforting,” he said, grinning to her displeasure. “Aren’t you supposed to be my kind doctor?”

  “Still with your ego,” Crystal countered, smiling despite herself.

  “I don’t got much else,” he said. “Half my skin’s gone.”

  “About that,” Christian asked, “what happened? Why’d you run?”

  “When?”

  “Last night, duh,” Crystal said, opening the first aid kit she had found. After one quick glance into it, she said, “We need to wash out those cuts first. On your legs and face. We can go down to the river.”

  “On my chest, too,” Michael grimaced. “But I don’t think I can walk down there. I did something to my ankle.”

  “Which one?” Crystal asked.

  “Left.”

  Gingerly untying his shoe, Crystal had barely touched the back when he whimpered in pain. She muttered something like a “sorry” and decided to instead peel down the sock. Gasping when she saw it, the lower leg just above the ankle had turned a terrible, multiple shades of purple and yellow and black. Christian looked away, and when Michael raised his head to see it, he gagged and fell back against the grass.

  “Shouldn’t’a looked,” he muttered. Christian nodded in response.

  “Give him something to bite down on,” Crystal commanded to her brother. Understanding, Christian dug through the backpack, before turning away and grabbing a thick stick from the ground.

  “What’s this for?” Michael asked.

  Ignoring him, Crystal glared at her brother and asked, “Really? A stick?”

  “Well, sorry, Doctor, but I didn’t see anything in the bag.”

  “Whatever. It’ll have to do.”

  “For what?” Michael stared at them in bewilderment. “What are you gonna do?”

  “Bite down on it,” Crystal said sternly.

  “But it’s a-”

  Crystal put a hand on his ankle, and he immediately shoved the long end of the stick in his mouth, biting onto it. With one movement, she clamped onto his shoe and yanked it off. Michael screamed, but the stick muffled his sounds, and he bit down harder into the disgusting bark. With another jerk, she ripped his sock off, and Michael repeated the noise. After a few minutes, the pain began to secede, and he laid his head on the ground again, still biting onto the stick.

  “Christian, go get some water from the stream,” Crystal said in a worried, fearful tone.

  “Why? We have to go down anyways.”

  “And why is that?” Crystal looked at him sternly, wanting to prove him wrong. Michael could not make it down that hill easily. His ankle looked worse without the shoe.

  All around the heel and towards the top of the foot, the color was purple and yellow, but towards the center it turned a terrifying shade of black and deep, dark purple. Besides the color, it sat stiffly, and she wondered if Michael could move it, even if he wanted to. Getting down to that river would be a terrible adventure, and even once they got there his ankle would slow them down tremendously. Now, she was having serious doubts about this whole expedition. Michael had inspired her to go with him, but could she follow someone who could not even walk?

  “The bridge is down there,” Christian explained. “It crosses the river. That’s where the picture was taken, and that’s where everyone will be.”

  “But he can’t go down there,” Crystal pleaded. “Let’s just wash it and wrap it, and then go on the top of the hill. We can go down once it’s healed more.”

  Michael spat out the stick, propping himself up on his elbows. “No. We go now.”

  Christian watched in amazement and Crystal in horror as he got to one knee, with the injured ankle still on the ground. Then he tried to stand, but when he was halfway up lost his balance and began to fall backwards. Christian ran up behind him, holding Michael up while he looked at Crystal.

  “Forget washing them,” he said. “Christian said the bridge isn’t far. I can make it.”

  “There’s no way! You’re too-”

  “No.”

  She glared at him with a mixture of amazement and anger. Christian stood by, holding Michael up and watching the argument awkwardly.

  “You got tape in there?” Michael asked.

  “Yeah,�
� she said, still deciding whether to argue further or give in. “I was gonna wash it, put Neosporin and hydrogen peroxide on it, and then put-”

  “Okay,” he interrupted. “I don’t know what any of that stuff is, but it sounds good. Do whatever you were going to, minus the washing.”

  “But, we need to get the dirt and stuff out,” said Crystal.

  “It’s fine. Forget about it. While you do that nurse stuff, I’ll tell you two what happened.”

  Not long afterwards, Crystal was applying all sorts of medicine to Michael’s cuts, caked with dried blood in some places and oozing pus in others. While working on his legs, she purposefully avoided touching the ankle which now looked even nastier after seeing it for a while. Michael sat on the ground against a tree, while Crystal labored and Christian sat checking the bags, waiting impatiently to hear what Michael had to say about last night.

  “So why’d you start running last night?” Christian finally asked.

  “Because that scream. It was Lilly.”

  “What scream?” Christian looked puzzled. Crystal sat by listening intently, but not saying a word.

  “You had to have heard it.”

  “There was no scream, man.”

  Michael sat stunned, uncertain what to think. Was he imagining it? There was no way he could conjure up that shrieking sound in his mind. It had happened. It had to have happened. Otherwise, he would have been... could he really be... was he going crazy out here in the forest?

  “Never mind it,” Christian said, changing the subject to Michael’s delight. “How’d you get those cuts and that ankle?”

  “The cuts are from the trees, most of them. I ran through them and then fell down a hill on the other side of that river. I fell into the water and went to the other side and I kept running towards the... well, I kept running. Then these coyotes came down the hill over there and I went up the hill on this side. At the top, I climbed this tree-”

  “Why?” Christian asked. “Coyotes can’t swim.”

  “These did,” Michael said, to the shocked look of both Christian and Crystal. “I climbed up that tree and did whatever to my ankle. Just barely got away. Then I stayed there all night until you woke me up.”