by Hawk, J. K.
But time is not one our side, Steph and I will need to leave soon, and Abel’s lack of cooperation holds us back. He still shows enthusiasm for meeting the fabled Nova, however he avoids any discussion of preparing for our journey. Furthermore, the boy’s uncertain future weighs upon us, more so than impending failure or death. He has grown on us, and we no longer see him as a testsubject or even our savior. He is the epitome of a survivor, he is our friend, our blood, and our ward. But in his eyes, it is us who are his self-chosen burden to watch over and guard. And today was no exception to that.
As I swayed between my notes and Adam’s journals, fumbling through endless thoughts and infinite data, an ear-splitting shriek befell the pristine wilderness. Blue Jay’s and Crows alike blotted out the sun in their escape, much like a dark fast moving cloud across the sky. My heart stopped a moment and I had to force myself to breathe before I came to my senses and dashedtowards Steph’s dreadful wails with all my papers dropping to the ground like unwanted trash.
Sprinting around the cabin I found a frightened pupil stuck upon the outhouse throne, pants to her ankles and thighs clutched together in fear. Before her, with its back hunched and head lowered like a lion ready to pounce, was the withering remains of a hell-hound. Unlike that of Necro-Wolves, or other turned critters, this beast was the remnants of domestication, and old friend of man. The tag upon the spiked collar strapped around its decayed neck still read ‘Wilson,’ beneath a layer of rust and grime. The breed had long ago been assimilated from its genome, but if I were to guess, I would have to say a Bull Mastiff or even a Saint Bernard. It was Cujo beyond the rabid.
I too froze in mid-step at the sight of him, the fur and skin long ago consumed by scaly black tissue, and its teeth seeping with disease. It was, without a doubt, the Prowler mutation, but for the first time it had come in canine form. Even with my abrupt presence it remained in stalking mode, eyes locked upon Steph and showing no concern for me. But the low and menacing snarl that creep up behind me gave reason for Wilson’s unwavering stance. As I glance over my shoulder my eyes locked onto two more Hound’s, not as large, but just as nauseatingly evil.
We were surrounded, three more soon emerged from the bushes, all of varying breed, some with collars, and others with the tell-tale signs of human conditioning. Snipped tails and clipped ears, some neutered, and others still boasting their necrotic fertility. And much like the Prowler’s, they were pack hunters, the natural convergence of instinct and infection. But, unlike Steph, I was unsurprised by their presence, and for a moment I had almost chuckled over it, much like the deranged laughing at the wind.
Wilson took an abrupt step towards Steph and let out a phlegmy bellow, and in return she responded by emptying her bladder. My mind raced to come up with a plan, weaponless and outnumbered, I had little to work with. The devil’s throng became increasingly agitated, thirsty for blood, eager for the kill. Their eyes burned with rage, and like that of a legions battle cry, Wilson raised his head to the sky with a ghastly bay as I stepped forward with my arms flailing in the air.
“NO! BAD DOG!” I barked with ol d-world customs, and the beasts wail came to a halt as it stepped back slightly. “WILSON!” I shouted at it again with a domineering tone, “GO HOME!” But my outdated commands fell upon tainted ears.
Wilson lunged for Steph, and her instinct broke through her frozen shell as she slammed the privy-door shut just as the Hound smashed into it and tumbled to the ground. Undeterred, its jaws clamped down upon the frame boards and pried them away in splinters. Without pause I stepped forward and kicked Wilson hard against his ribcage only for him to stumble slightly before resuming his attack upon the outhouse door.
Immediately the others moved in, circling me and drawing me away from their Alpha’s assault. She would be his prize, and the others focused on the scraps. Slowly I spun around, my arms still flailing as I stared each and every mongrel down. Deep and hoarse I continued to shout commands and curses at them, hoping for a hint of residual submission to provide me an advantage, but they showed no reaction.
“SI T! – LAY DOWN! – YOU SONS OF BITCHES!” All ignored. Even an aggressive and loud roar which seemed to tear my vocal cords had no effect on them.
With haste I knelt down a grasped a large rock from the ground, and my actions were met with a fierce lunge from one of the decrepit blood-hounds. Swinging hard the rock met its skull in midair, the cracking of bone echoed over their snarls, and the beast tumbled to the ground, dead. But the assault continued as two more lurched towards me, and with another mighty swing I flung the rock towards them, and the stone pummeled against ones back like a freight-train, snapping its spine. It too tumble to the earth with a high-pitch yelp, but still it dragged its paralyzed hind-end towards me, determined to feast.
Another did not hesitate to leap in, knocking me to the ground as I caught it by the neck and forced the snapping jaws away. As I struggled with the beast, another mutt rushed in and muckled onto myshoe, theHound’steeth coming within millimeters ofpuncturing my flesh as I desperately tried to kick him off while continuing to brawl with the bitch atop of me. Steph’s screams echoed across the mountain as Wilson chewed his way further into the door, stripping away plank after plank, seeking the sweet kibble within. The two of us were face to face with death, but I would not give in, and every ounce of strength I had fought to overcome.
“AWAY!” Cried out a familiar yet indistinct voice. And as quickly as I recognized the young call of the boy, the beast upon me was pulled off, and brutally flung up against a nearby tree. Its body wrapped violently around it, and every bone within its necrotic flesh seemed to snap in one fatal instant. Steph’s shrieks had been our saving grace, like the deafening blast of a Tornado Siren of the south, or more like the Bat-Signal from an old world comic-book, Abel was alerted and responded with haste.
But as I tried to comprehend the events, Abel jumped upon the back of the ferocious shoe-biter, prying its teeth from the leather, before wrenching its jaws further open until a loud crack sent fragmented bone up into its brain, ending the demon within. Abel flaunted the kill, shaking the limp head like a rag-doll as he grinned with malevolence and pride. But soon, his thrill of the kill faded, and he turned his attention back to the fight.
Wilson joined his last remaining cohort as they circled the riled and deadly Abel with strategic instinct. Their eyes burned into Abel’s with a common fire, but would surely end with a darkening coldness. The boy cried havoc, and the dogs of war slipped through. But, their agility was unmatched to his as one toppled under the power of a novice side-kick before Wilson was caught in mid-leap. Abel lifted the hefty Hound like a sack of potatoes, then slammed it head first into the dirt. With a squeal of malice, the boy stomped the mutt’s skull, crushing it with an explosion of putridness.
“I can’t leave you alone for a second.” Abel spat as he huffed in excitement. His gaze quickly turning towards Steph as she stumbled from the outhouse, her pants barely pulled up over her waist. “You okay?” He asked, only to receive a disheveled nod.
“I had it under control.” I quipped as I stood and brushed the dirt from my pants. The boy cast an annoyed gaze my way before grabbing two of the beast’s tails and dragging them off deep into the woods.
Steph rushed towards me, wrapping her arms tightly around my chest as she broke down from the anxiety and bawled into my shirt. Gently I held her close and firm, comforting a soul that could not be comforted. With a quick kiss to her forehead I took a deep breath and fought to hold back my own tears. Whether they were of my own strain, or in sympathy for hers, it did not matter. I had to be strong and in control, I needed for her to feel secure. Otherwise she may crack under the pressure and succumb to the mental deterioration induced by this world.
God’s Porch
Something plagues Abel, he remains silent, head lowered, and eyes adrift. One might say that he dwells in depression, but then again, the boy’s ethos does not lend to despair. Although he can mourn for the los
s of loved ones, he does not allow such emotions to overpower and subdue him. Heis the guardian ofhis father’sland, a prince, a king, and he upholds that stature with pride and an unwavering vigil. It wasn’t depression that had overcome him, but still, something pulled at his taught emotional strings.
“I want to show you something.” The boy said just after breakfast, but did not wait for our response. Instead he sauntered off into the forest as Steph and I rushed to keep up.
“Where are we going?” I asked, but received no response. We hiked down his mountain and eventually out onto old route twenty-seven, but did not follow the highway for long. Just about a quarter of a mile later, soon after crossing a deteriorated bridge that sprawled over the Dead River, we reentered the forest on the eastern side and continued on. For most of it we followed an overgrown ATV trail, passing by Bugeye Pond, then across Gold Brook, and eventually stepping out into an old gravel-pit, once used as a sand reserve for the Department of Transportation.
Steph and I sweated profusely, and yet Abel was as dry as a bone, still silent, and staring upwards towards a barren ridge of cliffs. After a moment, Abel looked at the two of us, then without a word he reentered the forest, heading straight for the base of those ledges. With an exhausted sigh, Steph and I continued to follow, ignoring the stings of blood-thirsty insects, or that of the thorny underbrush.
Slowly we moved upwards, and the forest began to recede as dense foliage gave way to moss covered stone, and then to sheer jagged rocks. There was not path in sight, nothing to guide the boy to his destination, but we held our questions in reserve, relying on our trust in him. Even when we crossed the mutilated yet only day’s old remains of a large moose blocking out course, we kept silent. The beast had recently plummeted from the ledges above, either a misjudged step on his part, or more likely he was startled and driven to his own demise. Either way, we held our breath and squeezed by the gruesome remains, rushing to keep up with the determined boy.
Eventually we broke through the canopy of the tallest trees, giving light to a blazing sun, and the jagged cliffs also faded over the crest of their edges. The surface had gone from steep and jagged, to gradual and almost smooth. Hard granite that had been, little by little, carved and shaped by exposure and constant rain. A seemingly never-ending and arduous incline, yet debunked of the hazards we had just overcome. My leg’s ached endlessly, but I refused to slow down, I refused to show my strain. And just as they were about to buckle on their own, Abel stopped and turned back towards us, but his eyes were fixated on something else.
Looking about, we had made it to the summit of this massive stone fortress, its northern face surrounded by a crescent of even higher cliff’s, all of which watched over the forests below. And then, as I caught my breath, I turned towards the south, and my eyes lay upon the very thing that attracted Abel, the thing that Steph had already noticed and gasped with wonderment. It was surreal, breathtaking, and awe-inspiring.
We stood upon the northern edge of a long mountain range, and another one stretch across the southern horizon, but what rested at their bases was a beautiful feat of nature. Chain of Pond’s, and series of waterways carved out by ancient glaciers, all interconnected by narrow channels and marshy bogs. Each pond sparkled in the basting sun and created a mirror image of the forests and mountains that surround them. Needless to say, whatever purpose Abel had in bringing us here, it was well worth the painful exertion.
“Papa called this God’s Porch.” Abel finally broke the silence. “It’s gorgeous.” Steph acknowledged.
“He said that all of this land was mine, and that I should never
leave it.” Slowly he sat down upon the stone precipice, crossing his legs and staring out over the horizon. “Can you name all of the ponds?” She asked as I sat down behind him, catching my breath, and observing Abel more so than the scenery. The boy pointed out towards the first pond that lay just below us.
“Lower, Bag, and Long.” his hand shifting towards each waterway as he listed them off. “Further up is Natanis and Round Pond, but you can’t see them from here.”
“You remember all of them?” “I remember everything…” He turned and smiled at Steph, the first of the day. “Well almost.”
“What does Natanis mean?” Steph asked.
“It is a name.” The boy stated. “Papa said he was a watcher. A native, like me, who kept eyes on all those who passed through this land.”
“A watcher?” Steph asked. I gave Abel a chance to answer, but he did not, apparently his father never told him the whole story. I myself have always been fascinated by the American Revolution, and knew a bit about this tale.
“He was a Native American spy,” I answered her. “The story goes that he was commissioned by the British to keep track of Colonial Forces moving northward into Quebec.” Abel shifted his body to face me, once again resting his chin upon his hands and anxious for a story. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much to tell. “When Benedict Arnold marched his army northward he heard tale of this Natanis. Now, this is where the story becomes diluted. Some say Arnold sought out this man as a villain, seeking to stop him from alerting British forces. Others say that Arnold hired Natanis for a couple days work, in the end befriending him. At which point Natanis sympathized with the colonists and ultimately switched sides.”
“Why would he help either side?” Steph asked.
“At this point in American history, the Europeans were widespread along the east coast. It was common for the Natives to align with either side. However, it’s hard to say what is true, little was written about Arnold’s march, even less of those he interacted with. Although the latter of the stories might as well be ironically accurate, seeing that later Arnold defected to the British.”
“Well that was a boring story.” Abel spat, as Steph busted out laughing.
“Indeed.” I answered. “How about you tell us a story.” I suggested. “What about the cliff’s behind us? Do theyhaveastory?”
“The Devil’s Porch.” He stated, looking up at the cracked and jagged stones that rose a good hundred feet or more above.
“The Devil’s?” Steph questioned. “It would seem the view would be better from up there. We might even be able to see the other ponds. Shouldn’t God’s Porch be higher than the Devil’s?”
“Papa never took me there. He said it was too dangerous. That those cracks and crags were the Devil’s teeth, and they would chew us up good.”
“Iforoneam happy your father preferred the modest of the two. I do not think I could have climbed up that.” I said.
Abel did not respond, he stared up at those formidable ledges for a moment before something else caught his eye from behind us. Turning I instantly caught sight of a long snake slithering its way across the hot stone. One of the largest snakes I had ever seen, or even expected to see in New England. A good four feet long, if not more, flat black, and dark beady eyes like that of a demon. Unfamiliar with snakes I quickly backed away, unsure if this could be venomous, and Steph followed suit with a high pitched squeal.
The boy on the other hand showed no fear as he rose from his perch and like that of a mink, he swiftly swooped over and snatched up the fierce looking serpent. With a quick jerk of his hand, he snapped its neck and swung the carcass over his shoulder before joining us back upon the sun scorched stone. Steph scooted over, closer to me, and away from the boy and his proud kill. None the less she was not a fan of snakes, alive or dead, and Abel instantly noticed her repulsion.
“Dinner.” He said with a smile.
“Abel,” I addressed, looking to distract Steph from the reptile as well as getting answers. “As beautiful as it is, why did you bring us here?” The boy pondered my question for a moment before speaking.
“You want me to go back with you.” He finally spoke. “This is why I cannot.” He said looking out over the land. “I must guard this land, like Natanis. Leaving it would betray my father’s wishes, just as your Arnold betrayed his people.”
“G
uard it from whom?” I asked.
“From those who would destroyit.” He answered. “Papa is now a part of this land, and I won’t let them take it.”
“Your father’s fear of this land being destroyed by man goes back long before you were born. It was a time when man used large machines to strip the land of resources. Now, there are fewer men and no machines to take on such a task.” I paused a moment, staring into his eyes. “There is nothing man can do to this land that the land will not recover from. Nature is a resilient beast, your father saw this first hand.”
“And besides,” Steph added, “When you return, with Nova too, you will see that nothing has changed.” Abel sat silently, still gazing out over the valley, peering into the bosom of the only mother he has known.
“A great man once said,” I continued, “Do not go where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path, and leave a trail.” The boy looked up at me, confused, awaiting more. “It was Emerson’s way of saying that everyone must create their own destiny, but one that will shine and be undeniable. Your blood will save mankind, but your story, your legacy, will be the trail that inspires generations to come.”
The boy didn’t speak at first, he stared back into my eyes for a moment, before gazing out over the horizon. I could see his mind working, pondering my words, still weighing out the pros and the cons. Steph and I sat silently as well, seeing that we have made a strong case, and did not want to push him too far. And as we waited for his response, the day became even hotter, and our clothes became swamped with sweat. I was about to suggest we leave, but then Abel turned back, with a question in his eyes.