by Hawk, J. K.
Earlier today, my beautiful son taught me a valuable lesson about this wilderness I have come to know so well. A lesson that I will engrain as one of my highest rules of survival, ‘Mother Nature is a ruthless bitch.’ Never underestimate her ability to misdirect and confuse, one must look at every yard as a ruse, and ever acre a minefield laid out specifically for you. In some ways, my choice to cloak myself under her garments was and still is, riskier then surviving amongst society’s ruins.
We walked, with no real purpose, just to wander and explore, simply to improve the relationship between us and the wild. We hiked up and over our mountain and towards Mount Pucker-Brush which sits silently and peacefully next door. It was the first time since we met that I have sought out Tugger’s dwelling. Of course, I had no expectations of finding it, but if it did present itself, his domicile would provide us with a large cache of supplies. And, in the back of my mind, a chance to get to know that honorable man a little bit better. An unwritten book to his legacy.
Needless to say, we never did make the ascent, but we won’t give up on it either.
The narrow valley between our two mountains would become the basis of Abel’s lesson to me. Fairly flat ground, dotted with large pines, beaten and shattered by years of brutal weather. Seemingly a peaceful and ancient landscape. We rested there, for myself more than he. It is something of wonder the strength and agility this child possesses. I know he does not get it from me, maybe his mother, or something… else.
Abel marched about, examining the slope before us, looking for the easiest yet most direct route. The sun shimmered through the canopy, creating a scattering of light that seemed to focus on random points on the forest floor. As I caught my breath, I absorbed the majestic view about us. In awe of her beauty, a gorgeousness I have only seen one other time. Upon Mia’s angelic face.
Sadly, the memories of my beloved are slowly fading with time. The idea of losing that visage aches my heart to its core. At least, for now, I can still see those glimmering green eyes piercing into my own. Although I see a lot of her in Abel, it is still not the same, and a tear always comes to my eyes when I desperately try to pull those fading images back. In most instances, the forced visage ends with that of my own hands taking her precious life away, and then I shake them off with a painful shudder.
“PAPA!” Abel called out.
My eyes snapped open and towards my boy, his face as white as snow as he pointed up the slope. It took me a moment to register his gesture, but the sound of a raspy snarl snapped me out of my fog. A mere twenty yards above us descended three heavily decaying bodies, shambling down the slope with their eyes locked onto me with lethal intention. Although Abel was highly concerned, three dead were of no threat to me, and yet I should have heeded his fear. Quickly I pulled my machete from its sheath and charged the oncoming threat.
“NO PAPA!” Cried Abel.
But I did not pay any mind to his warning, instinct took over and I plunged the blade deep into the first Necrotic’s head, sweeping it cleaning through its face before charging the second. As the blade split the skull in two, it became clear as to the concern my boy had proclaimed. The three corpses that descended were being followed by nothing more than brush, saplings, and vines, overshadowed by large and age-old trees. However, as the second cadaver dropped to the forest floor, all those things began to move and marched towards me. My mind was playing tricks on me, and as I shook my head, it became clear. The bitch had cloaked them in her own garments. It was a small gathering, but more than I could ever handle. Fifty or so by my count, caked in mud, overgrown with moss and vines, and littered with a variety of dead and rotting vegetation. Although they were in front of us the entire time, it took me getting closer to see them clearly. Too close.
“RUN!” I shouted.
But, it was too late as a bony hand clamped down tight upon my shoulder followed by my feet slipping out from under me, and tumbling to the ground along with a corpse and his friends not far behind. I struggled to push it off of me, but he was a tubby old soul, and even though most of his pot belly had peeled away from his torso, it did not lighten him up any. Its claws raked against my shoulders, which were barely protected by the ratted shirt I wore, and its teeth snapped vigorously in my face as a grayish goop slowly dangled from his lips. I had managed to position the dull edge of my blade against its throat as leverage, keeping its infectious bite as far away as possible. The steel, although blunt, still sliced deep into its withered flesh, stopping abruptly at his spine. Although mostly severed, it did not flinch and did not withdraw.
It seemed as if minutes had passed, and that the rest of his posse should also be upon me. But it was just mere seconds, and before I could use what strength left in my arms to thrust the blade through its bone, Abel lunged in, driving his tiny little fist into Tubby’s skull like a hammer. I was beside myself at what I had just witnessed, stunned and in awe, until he pulled his scrawny hand from the cavity and shook off the goop as if it were only fish slime.
“Can we go now?” He asked after I had rolled the corpse off of me.
The approaching horde was just feet away, so I did not take the time to answer him. Instead we ran, back up the way we had come, gaining as much distance between us and them as we could. Before long we reached an outcrop littered with fallen rocks, and together we stumbled atop of them to catch our breath once more. We could hear the Dead climbing up after us, fumbling with the steep obstacle before them, and all we could do was chuckle at their futile efforts.
A past experience of mine flooded my memories, and I thought it time we both had a little fun. Without a word I kicked a large forty pound stone off the edge, and together we leaned over to watch it careen down the slope. The hunk of ledge tumbled, bouncing off trees, then ultimately cracking and splitting into two stones which clobbered a quartet of the approaching dead.
“Like killing four Zombies with one stone.” I chuckled.
Together we cheered, and Abel, excited over his new found hobby, pushed an even larger, two hundred plus pound rock over the edge. Its tumble down the slope roared like thunder and shook the rocks beneath our feet. Immature but solid trees snapped like tooth-picks under its weight, and just as quick as it started, the rock plowed through the herd like an out of control steam roller. Nearly half were wiped out with a wave of infectious gore that splattered about the pristine landscape, and I found myself prouder than ever of my son.
“That was cool.” I said, patting my boy on the back.
“Can I do it again, Papa?” He asked, and I nodded.
Abel took his time, searching the edge of rocks for the perfect one, the perfect size, and the perfect shape. He wanted entertainment, something we had little of up here on the mountain. He wasn’t about to waste what may be the last string of Zombie Bowling on some minuscule and uneventful stone. No, he searched the pile, sorting through the tons upon tons of rock for that perfect one. It didn’t take long for him to find it either. An even larger, pushing five-hundred pounds of jagged slab wedged between what looked like a thousand other rocks and boulders. But he was persistent, kicking and pulling, chucking other stones away to loosen their mighty hold on his Excalibur.
“You are never going to move that.” I said.
He ignored my playful taunt. But, too my surprise, with one last hardy yank, the slab shifted about three inches out of its binds. I stood up, half expecting him to slide the sheet of bedrock out like it was made of paper. Instead, he backed away from it, his face becoming as pale as snow within seconds. Watching him, baffled as to why he stopped, I moved to get closer. I only took two steps before a low rumbled filled my ears, and within seconds, I was moving, towards edge of the outcrop. My son had loosened the only peg that held these tons of fallen stones in place, and in moments, it would all tumble down.
Abel was close enough to solid tree covered ground to leap off of the landslide in time. I however, was further away, and out of time to get off. The rocks shook the mountain slope as the mass
moved faster towards the cliff face, the outer edges already dropping down, and even over the cluster of cracks, booms, and scraping, I could hear the crushing of necrotic bones. The last thing running through my mind as I rode one boulder towards the edge like a surfboard, was how I would soon hear my own bones crumbling.
Thankfully, some sort of primitive instinct came over me, and just as my ride careened over the edge I leaped and grabbed hold of a tall hemlock growing gracefully up the face of the ledge. The whole slope of cracked and crumbling boulders let go, tumbling off the edge like a waterfall from hell. I couldn’t see the Dead any longer, already buried in a mass of their own tombstones, and just as fast as it had begun, it was over, with the last few pebbles rolling their way down with an echo of pitter-patters and cloud of dust that enveloped the entire valley like a storm cloud.
My heart pounding and my lungs gasped for air, I clung tightly to the tree, trying hard not to think of the thirty foot drop below me, nor the five foot leap to get back onto the slope. Disoriented, a familiar yet distant sound rung out in my ears, and as my head cleared, it became obvious that what I was hearing was laughter. That’s when my eye caught Abel, kneeling on the slope, giggling like a crazed hyena. Clinging with desperation I stared at my boy as he caught his breath and brought his amusement under control before he looked up at me with those bright eyes and said;
“Now, that was cool!”
The Forsaken
Almost a whole month of never ending dry heat, unbearable gives no respect to the unrelenting swelter that has choked this land. The brook nearby the cabin is now just a damp and rocky channel with random pools of cold water, and each fading puddle containing many trapped fish, which has been a gift for Steph and I both. However, the forest around us is now arid and brittle, for which it appears all wildlife have fled this plight for soggier wetlands deeper into this mountain range. The slightest hot ash from a campfire, a lightning strike, or even a miniscule spark from a ricocheted bullet could set off an unstoppable inferno.
Prematurely I mentioned the idea of Abel returning to Maribel with Steph and me, but the suggestion was met with a scowl of warning, and I knew to ease off. Technically I was already in breach of the agreement, but the boy did not appear to be annoyed that we have still stuck around. I believe he fears to be alone again, and he seems to have become socially dependent on us. Or, maybe it is his infatuation with Steph that makes our stay more welcome. Still, each day he works me into my grave with laborious chores that he is fully capable of doing himself. But, I was not longer a slave, I followed his requests by my own accord.
As Steph sat under a tree with Abel, teaching him how to read his father’s journal, I decided to head up the mountain to try my luck at a little brook fishing with Adam’s old pole. Such gear was unneeded seeing that I could just reach in and scoop out the crowded fish, but in honor of Adam, I chose to be a bit more conservative. Allowing the fish a chance to escape, to survive, and eventually be free when the rains return one day.
I hadn’t traveled far before stumbling upon a large deep hole with and adjacent ledge, once a cascading waterfall, but now just bone-dry stone. With a swift flick of my wrist I cast the line out into the middle and let the ratty hand-tied fly float peacefully as I slumped down beneath a large hemlock in exhaustion. I was in no rush to catch the little buggers, and so I relaxed, closed my eyes, and waited for a much needed nap to take hold.
However, the sanctity of sleep hadn’t even set in before the line tugged violently, and as my eyes reopened I caught the quick splash of a large trout falling back into the crystalline water. Quickly I reeled in the monster, excited like a little boy catching his first fish. It took a little bit of a struggle, more than usual for a brook trout, before I realized why. Once upon shore I saw what a monster it was, as big as the whale that swallowed Jonah, would be my big-fish tale. But in reality, I was looking at a good fourteen inch fish, desperately flopping about the embankment. Not an uncommon size for this species, but very uncommon for a small stream like this.
I wondered how long this beast has sat in the depths of this one hole, gobbling up juicy morsels as they flowed down stream as well as eating its own, in order to pack on so much weight. Something that could survive so efficiently in such a small habitat is something that should continue to survive in all its glory. So giving in to guilt, I removed the hook from his jaw, and slowly lowered the beast back into the cool mountain waters to live out the rest of his days. Ihadn’t even eased up on my grip before it struggled free with a burst of energy and disappeared into the darkness below.
No time was wasted before I tossed my line back into the water, this time further into the shallows as to not re-catch that magnificent creature. Instantly the sparkling pool came alive with a feeding frenzy of small fry’s to adults no more than a foot long. Ultimately their precision strikes quickly stripped the hook of all its thread and feathers requiring me to reel it in and tie another on. My nap, decidedly, would wait as I became as excited as those fish before me.
Yet, just as I positioned the pole for another cast, a recognizable and feared sound swept through the forest. Clicks, chitters, and clucks, none of which belonged in this barren landscape. No, this was the unmistakable sound of the Prowler, circling me as it gained confidence to pounce. As my heart began to pound with intensity and but gut tightened into knots, I dreadfully realized that my gun was left back at the cabin, not that it would have done much against the agility and stealth of these nefarious demons, but I would have had a better chance..
Dropping the pole I bolted down the mountain, knowing I could not out run them, but what other choice did I have. Unfortunately I did not make it far before my foot snagged a mass of tangled roots, and with a loud thud I slammed down, my head bouncing off a rock with a loud crack. Immediately my eyes blurred with tears and the forest began to spin violently around me as three dark Prowler’s slowly stepped out from the cover of the forest and surrounded me. Desperately I tried to catch my breath and blinked repeatedly in an attempt to ease my disoriented vision.
The lanky beings stood above me, cocking their heads side to side, watching as I flailed helplessly upon the earth like a fish out of water. Occasionally one would chitter at another, who would respond with a series of phlegmy clucks. Their scaly skin, shimmering with elegance like a smooth slab of obsidian in the afternoon sun, and their daunting musk filled the sweet mountain air with that of putrid death. As the forest continued to spin, so did my stomach, and before long I expelled its contents all over myself.
The Prowler’s backed off, as if to avoid some unforeseen attack, then stepped forward in rage, lashing out and yanking my arms and legs as if to taunt me. My head began to clear, and the spins slowed, but I feared it was too late. For sure I would become yet another mountain-side buffet, as Adam would have said. Where if luck was with me, I’d be consumed beyond survival, instead of slightly nibbled so that Valkyrie could take hold. And even with eminent death staring me down, my mind wondered to our first encounter just after the chopper crash. How Garrison’s man rose from their bite as a Primordial Necrotic, and not a Fledgling Prowler. Which would it be for me?
One of the fiends, the Alpha I presume, knelt down before me, his ashen eyes gazing over his prey like that of a serial-killer. So much human, and yet all too animal, both driven by an insatiable hunger. Although most of his nose seemed caved-in, or maybe just rotted away, I could still see the ebonized muscles within pulsating as it sniffed the air, drawing in my own sweaty incense. Slowly its tongue, blight-ridden a greenish-black, traced the remains of its scabbed lips.
As he examined me, his master-at-arms stepped forward, anxious for the order to strike. Unlike the Alpha, I could see clearly that this was once a woman. Her hair had long been shed, leaving behind a barren charcoal scalp riddled with cracks and oozing with putridness. Her breasts, however, were less to be desired, the left one had either been torn away or simply fell off from rot. Her right however was intact, but not the perky pl
aything and old man like me might hope for. It too was dark and scaly, as well as dried-tough like that of jerky. At one time it hung low and swung freely with each step, but now it remained stiff and permanently seemed with scartissue to the rest of her body, as if chiseled into a tall slab of coal. Harder to decipher was her lower nether-region, an ancient tomb forever sealed by black-magic, a small creased down the center was its only identifiable trait.
Impatiently she lunged for me only to be answered with the Alpha’s backhand, which knocked her back into submission. But his intervention was not for my own well-being, but instead to maintain his position atop of the pecking order, for he would be the first to kill and to eat. Slowly it rose back up, towering over me and blotting out the sun, which gave and eerie aureole which surrounded its shadowy form, like that of an angel greeting me from the afterlife. But as it readied to strike, Abel’s leaped over a nearby boulder and huddle above me, protecting me from the rancid beasts.
“BACK!” He squawked, waiving a large stick around. “BACK I SAY!”
And they did, but only a few steps before they stopped and raised their spindly arms high as they arched their backs and glared at him in disapproval. One of them stepped forward, attempting to maneuver to Abel’s rear before lashing out and snatching up my hair as it pulled me back a foot or two with ease. Abel spun about face and plunged the sharpened edge of the stick into its head and sending the body and a splattering of black sludge down upon me. The others screeched in rage as I rolled with panic into the stream, fumbling towards a small pool and rigorously splashed water to wash the infectious blood away. Abel did not hesitate to step towards the other two, raising his mighty spear above his head and unleashing a volley of insults and commands.