Campfire

by Shawn Sarles

  But then, just as he had seen Jared’s head starting to dip with sleepiness, Caleb had heard a crunch down below and a deer had walked into the clearing. Jared and Keith had spotted it, too.

  And the rest—well—the rest was history.

  Caleb knew Jared wouldn’t tell the real story. These men never did. Jared’s first shot had missed badly, but he’d gotten a second chance because Keith’s bullet had landed in the deer’s haunches and practically maimed it. Jared had had time to aim, time for another shot, which had hit the deer right in the chest. The killing blow. And now this beautiful creature would live on, stuffed and mounted in Jared’s office, a trophy to impress every client. And there was nothing Caleb could do to stop it.

  “Shit, this is going to take forever.” Jared stopped sawing and wiped his brow.

  “Here.” Keith popped open a beer and handed it over. “Don’t want these going to waste.”

  Jared laughed and took the beer. Keith opened one for himself and the two men cheers-ed. They both took a swig, and then Jared got back to work.

  “God, this cooler is heavy,” Jared complained loudly. He dropped the handle and then sat down on its lid, panting.

  Ahead of him, Caleb stopped, cursing the man under his breath. When they’d first got on the mountain, he’d told Jared to leave the cooler with the truck, but the man had insisted, hauling the thing with them for the two miles they’d hiked into the woods. He couldn’t go a whole weekend without his damn beer. And now the men had chugged two six-packs between them in the last few hours. This was turning into a nightmare on top of a nightmare.

  “Five minutes, then we’ve got to keep going,” Caleb said, annoyed. He watched as Keith plopped down on the cooler next to Jared, looking just as uncomfortable as his friend. “And drink some water.”

  Caleb pulled his own canteen out of his pack and took a gulp, glancing back at the two men. Both had their heads cradled in their hands. Caleb took a little pleasure in seeing them in pain. Maybe they’d learn something from the hangovers.

  “How much longer?” Jared croaked, looking only a few inches from death. Caleb smirked as the man jumped up from the cooler, hand clutched to his mouth. The splash came a few seconds later.

  “Gross,” Keith groaned, pressing his hand over his own mouth. Caleb ignored them, walking a little ways ahead. He paused and took another sip of water. He could hear the two men still groaning behind him. He shut his eyes and tried to block it out.

  One more mile. He wished he could fast-forward through the next hour. He just wanted to get back to the truck, drive down the mountain, and never see these men again.

  “Dude! You’re dripping on my shoes.”

  Keith’s disgusted cry broke through Caleb’s thoughts. The guide sighed and turned back around. Better to get it over with. He walked toward the two men, but something caught his eye and made him stop. He hadn’t noticed it earlier. He moved closer to get a better look.

  There, on one of the trees, it looked like someone had carved a symbol into the bark. Caleb got closer and ran his fingers over the spot. It looked like it could have been drawn by a knife. Maybe it was to help mark a trail.

  Or it could just be that an animal had worn its mark into the wood. A bird. Or squirrel. Caleb had seen that before. But never in this pattern. Whatever it was, it looked kind of like a pair of lightning bolts sitting side-by-side, two jagged lines zigzagging from sky to earth.

  Caleb took a long look and then moved on. Another curiosity to add to these woods. He’d been bringing people up here for a year now, and still he hadn’t seen it all. Nature never ran out of surprises. Or mysteries.

  “Let’s get going,” Caleb called to the men.

  Both men groaned.

  “Only one more mile to AC,” Caleb tried. This seemed to work as the two men got slowly to their feet, shouldering their packs.

  “Keith, man, can you carry the cooler for a bit?” Jared pleaded with his friend.

  “No way,” Keith shot back without a second’s thought. “It’s not my head.”

  Jared tried but couldn’t think of an argument. He looked down at the cooler.

  “You better look damn impressive on my wall.”

  Then he bent and picked it up.

  Caleb nodded at the two men and started walking. They fell in line behind him, moving slowly, walking with clumsy, exhausted feet. It only took about five minutes for one of them to ruin Caleb’s quiet.

  “Hey—um—” Jared tried to get Caleb’s attention, forgetting his name. “Is it just me, or do you hear something?”

  “It’s just you,” Caleb said without giving the question a thought. He was so close to freedom. Couldn’t they just shut up and keep walking?

  Jared stopped and dropped the cooler.

  “It’s nothing.” Caleb heard the annoyance in his own voice. He whirled around on the men. “Let’s go.”

  “I definitely heard something.” Jared wasn’t backing down.

  “Look.” Caleb no longer cared. He couldn’t deal with these two anymore. “We’re almost back to the truck, so just stop complaining, pick up your damn cooler, and keep walking.”

  Jared’s chest puffed up. He crossed his arms and opened his mouth.

  But instead of words, a metallic twang sang through the trees. Caleb watched in confusion as a flower bloomed against Jared’s shoulder, dying his shirtfront red, its stem sticking out a good foot from Jared’s body.

  It took Caleb another beat to realize it was actually an arrow shaft.

  Another second after that, Jared’s scream tore through the woods.

  Caleb whipped around, his eyes darting through the trees. Who was shooting at them? And why?

  He heard another metallic twang and an arrow notched itself in a tree just inches from Keith’s head. The man turned and stared at it with wide eyes. Then he took off running. He didn’t make it far.

  Another arrow whistled through the air and hit Keith square in the back. He collapsed to the ground in a heap, but quickly realized he wasn’t dead. He threw off his pack, the arrow embedded in it, and scrambled back to his feet. He looked around wildly, backpedaling. One step. And then two.

  On the third step, his foot found something hard. An iron clank crunched sickeningly, and a bear trap snapped closed, breaking Keith’s ankle in one bite as it devoured his foot.

  His scream was even louder than Jared’s.

  Caleb froze. He didn’t know what to do. They hadn’t covered ambushes in his wilderness-training classes.

  A man emerged from the trees, crossbow in hand. A big, bushy beard covered his face with coarse, gray hair. Then another man appeared. And another. All three wore dirty clothes, tattered at the hems. They all looked like they could use a good shower. They moved threateningly through the woods, calm and confident, stalking their prey. Caleb could only raise his hands and pray they’d let him go.

  The man with the crossbow came up on him and stopped. He scrutinized Caleb from head to toe. Caleb tried to hold the man’s gaze, but he couldn’t help curling his nose. A pungent odor seeped from the man’s pores. It smelled like dirt and rotted flowers and bear piss all thrown in a bottle and shaken up. The man motioned, and the other two went to tend to Jared and Keith, but he stayed there in front of Caleb. He sucked on his lips, tilting his mouth this way and then that, as if in deliberation. He smirked and turned around.

  Caleb held his breath. Had he really just escaped?

  Then the man whirled back and Caleb felt a crack open up in his forehead. He fell down into the black chasm and lost consciousness.

  Caleb groaned. It felt like someone had taken his head and broken it open like an egg, pouring his brains out in one runny yolk. His head lolled to one side and then back to the other. His nostrils flared, and a tangy smoke filled his lungs.

  He took another sniff, and—like with smelling salts—his eyes twitched. His mind started to clear. He blinked twice and came to.

  He tossed his head, looking all around. He coul
d hear the woods alive out there—the crackle of a fire, an owl hooting, the droning song of cicadas—but he couldn’t see anything. Black night enveloped him, pulled him down as he struggled to get to his feet.

  Panic overwhelmed him. He fought harder to get up, but no matter how much he strained, the ropes around his shoulders held fast. The blindfold covering his eyes wouldn’t budge.

  Finally, Caleb gave up. He tried to calm down. Tried to keep his mind from racing. Tried to think.

  He remembered the men in the woods. The leader with his wild, gray beard. His crossbow.

  What had happened to Jared? Keith?

  Someone whimpered on his right. Caleb turned his head.

  “Jared? You there?” He whispered.

  But he only got more whimpers in reply. Caleb was about to try again, but just then footsteps stirred the underbrush. They came right toward Caleb.

  “Hey! What are you doing? Let us go,” Caleb shouted out. He couldn’t even tell if he was looking in the right direction.

  No one answered him.

  Instead, one of the men grunted, and then Caleb heard him bend down, untying, not him, but the whimpering man on his right.

  There was a shout of protest. Cries for help. A struggle as the men pulled Jared to his feet. Their footsteps receded, and the shouts grew farther away. But they didn’t get any quieter. Jared’s screams echoed through the forest, deafening in Caleb’s ears. Then a heavy thunk and the screams cut off altogether.

  “Oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god.”

  Caleb recognized Keith’s voice on his left.

  “They just killed Jared and they’re gonna kill us next.”

  Caleb struggled to find something to say—anything that could help calm Keith. But what? Wasn’t the man right?

  “It’s going to be all right.”

  The words felt empty in Caleb’s mouth. A lie. But he had to say something.

  “Like hell it is.” Keith’s voice had dropped back low. He’d given up.

  Then the footsteps came back.

  “Look, if you survive this, do me a favor.” Keith spoke quickly. “Tell my mom I love her.”

  And then they had him.

  Keith didn’t scream. He remained silent as they dragged him away, his broken ankle making him worthless for walking. Caleb perked up his ears, trying to hear anything he could. But there was nothing—until the same sickening thunk.

  Caleb shut his eyes under his blindfold and waited. He wasn’t the type to pray, but what could it hurt to try?

  The footsteps approached, slower this time. Caleb set his lips in a steely line and waited. He wouldn’t show these men any fear. If he was going, he’d go dignified. He couldn’t let a yuppie like Keith show him up.

  Someone knelt in front of him and pulled the blindfold off his head. Caleb squinted, letting his eyes adjust to the night. Just a few inches away, the leader from before stared at him with unblinking eyes, his gray beard bigger than Caleb remembered. And dirtier.

  They sized each other up without speaking, and then the man motioned and Caleb felt rough hands untying him and pulling him up. He didn’t fight as they led him toward a campfire set up in a clearing about twenty yards from where they’d been bound.

  As they pushed Caleb into the light, a shock ran through him. He’d thought it was just the three men, rogue hunters out for a better thrill than deer or bear. But this—

  Well, he’d heard rumors, but he’d never thought they had any truth to them.

  However, he couldn’t ignore this. Couldn’t ignore the faces, young and old, staring at him from all directions. The burly men with their rough, leathery hands, sunburned from a life spent outdoors. Or the women with their long tangles of greasy, matted hair. And the children, with their spindly limbs and pinched faces, freckles dotting their cheeks.

  This wasn’t a campsite, but a small village—a community.

  The Mountain People really did exist.

  The realization stunned Caleb, surprising as it was terrifying. If the stories were true, these people lived completely off the grid, by a law all their own. They knew the mountains so well that the authorities could never find them.

  Caleb didn’t have any more time to think about it, though, as the men guiding him forced him to his knees and pressed his face down against a giant tree stump. The wood was wet and warm. Caleb didn’t waste any time thinking why.

  The men held him tight. Out of the corner of his eye, Caleb saw a glint of metal, the flash of an ax blade.

  He took a deep breath. At least he’d die in the wild, with trees all around and a sky full of stars looking down at him. He’d go with the crisp scent of pine in his lungs.

  He blinked and tears ran down his cheeks. The mountain man’s shadow fell across the tree stump. He raised his arms and Caleb shut his eyes tight. He waited.

  The ax came down and thunked against the stump.

  Caleb’s eyes shot open. The campfire still roared beside him, its light flickering off the ax that had buried its blade into the stump two inches from his nose.

  The men suddenly released him. Caleb got up slowly, unsure. The man with the gray beard stood in front of him. He spat at Caleb’s feet and motioned to the other men again. One came forward, carrying Jared’s blue cooler. He offered it to Caleb.

  The guide didn’t ask any questions. He just took the cooler in his trembling hands and went slowly, throwing cautious glances over his shoulder, making sure this wasn’t some kind of trick.

  He walked for fifteen minutes before he felt safe. Then he broke into a run, moving as best he could with the cooler in his arms.

  It took him a while, but eventually he found a path he knew. In another hour, he’d made it back to the truck.

  His body shook with exhaustion and fear. He set the cooler down in the bed of his truck and rubbed his shoulders. He stared long and hard at the lid of that blue cooler, knowing what was inside. He didn’t want to open it, but he knew he had to.

  Carefully, he reached out. His fingers danced nervously across the plastic. He gulped, and then in one quick motion flipped it open.

  Caleb gagged. A sob escaped his mouth and he turned away. But the image stayed with him, seared into his brain. He’d never forget it—Jared’s and Keith’s eyes, frozen open in horror, the matching pairs of angry red lightning bolts carved into their foreheads.

  No, not lightning bolts, Caleb realized. Antlers.

  THIRTEEN

  AN UNCOMFORTABLE QUIET HAD FALLEN AROUND the campfire, everyone trying to avoid Mark’s gaze.

  “But—but—that can’t possibly be true.” Mark’s anxious assertion broke the silence. The color had gone completely out of his face. The story must have sobered him up a bit. Caleb only shrugged, though, giving nothing away.

  But Maddie knew the story couldn’t possibly be real. It sounded so over the top. So far-fetched. What would Caleb have even done with the two heads? And why would he ever come back if those same Mountain Men were still out there?

  Still, Maddie had to admit there was a part of her that believed him. Or a part that wanted to believe him. There’d been something in Caleb’s voice as he’d told his story. Something tragically authentic. Like the gruesome ordeal had been seared into his memory, all the details there, plain as day, every time he closed his eyes.

  Wouldn’t it be nice to have someone who understood? Someone who, like Maddie, knew the pain of never forgetting the worst day imaginable? Those images of her mother—of the fire and its suffocating, black smoke—they haunted her. And always would.

  No. Maddie had to check herself. Caleb was a good storyteller, plain and simple. He probably pulled this story out for all of the groups he escorted through the mountains. He hadn’t survived some near-death trauma. The Mountain People didn’t exist.

  She got to her feet in a hurry, needing a moment to get away and clear her head.

  “Everything all right?” Chelsea asked, and everyone in the circle turned toward her.

  “
Fine.” Maddie put a smile on. “Just wanted to grab a drink. Anybody else want one?”

  “I’ll take another beer.” Charlie raised one hand to get Maddie’s attention.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  Maddie retreated from the campfire light. She could hear the conversation starting back up, but she only caught the first few words before she walked out of earshot.

  The cooler wasn’t far, but Maddie suddenly felt isolated. She hadn’t bothered to grab her flashlight. The eerie quiet of the woods wrapped around her like a blanket. She felt alone. And a little paranoid. She could see just ahead where the woods started. She stopped and peered into the black chasm.

  What hid behind the dark foliage of those branches?

  Crickets? Owls? Deer? Bears? The Mountain People?

  She shook her head and kept walking. When she got to the cooler, she hesitated. It was blue, just like in Caleb’s story. Her fingers danced nervously over the plastic lid.

  Wait. Why was she being so silly?

  Maddie rolled her eyes at herself and flipped the cooler open. Before she could reach in, though, she heard footsteps come up behind her. She jumped. A squeal escaped her lips.

  “Oh, sorry,” Caleb apologized. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

  Maddie blushed, thankful for the darkness.

  “No worries.”

  She tried to act cool. She reached into the open cooler—no heads—and pulled out a can of ginger ale and a bottle of beer for her brother.

  “Did you want something?” Maddie asked.

  “Nope. Just needed to stretch my legs.”

  Maddie nodded, the cold drinks sweating in her hands.

  “Can I ask—” Maddie hesitated, and then charged forward. “That story—the Mountain People—they aren’t real, are they?”