Two consecutive gunshots ring out. I stop cold.
“Dad!” I hope to hear his voice telling me he’s ok, but there’s nothing. Just silence.
A part of me wants to go back and make sure he isn’t hurt, but fear has sunk its teeth into me, and won’t let go. I try to move my legs back in the direction of Dad, but they don’t respond. As much as I want to disobey Dad, I can’t.
“Let’s go, Duke.”
We finally make it back to camp. I’m panting hard. My hands rest on my hips to regain some energy, but there isn’t any time for that. I have to keep moving.
I franticly gather everything I can, and latch it down on my pack. My sides hurt from running all the way here. My legs are like Jell-O, but all I’m thinking about is Dad.
Duke’s ears remain perked and on end. His head trains in the direction of Dad. He releases a short burst of ruffs from his snout.
Twigs snap. The sound of footsteps rapidly approaching the camp tightens my nerves. I remove the Remington from my shoulder, and take aim.
“Come on, Dad, please be you. I’m not leaving you up here,” I mutter under my breath.
My hands shake. The Remington is unsteady in my unsure grasp.
Duke has his ears lowered back. A deep throated growl sounds from deep within him. He does not like it either.
“Take it easy, boy. It may be Dad,” I say as calmly as I can.
It’s getting closer, working up the blind trail and into the line of my fire. My heart beats like a drum with my finger resting on the trigger. My inner voice beseeches me to take a deep breath and calm down.
I try to steady my arm, and keep it from shaking so much, but it’s like it has a mind of its own.
Snap! Snap!
I ready to open fire. Dad emerges out of the darkness of the trail. He holds up his hands in the air. “Whoa, James, it’s me.” Dad is winded. He places his hands on his knees and gasps for air. “Let’s get-”
“Watch out!”
I catch the vague silhouette coming up behind Dad. I fire a single round in his direction. Dad seizes up as his hands fly into the air. The bullet whips past him, grazing his right shoulder. He stumbles to the left in search of cover.
He grumbles some choice words as he narrows his eyes in my direction. “What the hell are you doing, James?”
“I’m so sorry, Dad,” I sputter. “One of those things was coming up behind you.”
I point to the ground. Dad glances to his right at the dead body lying face down in the dirt. A small hole resides in the back of his head. His blond hair is coated with chunks of flesh and bone.
His brow unfurrows. “Are you ok, James?”
My eyes swallow the corpse. The realization of what just transpired hasn’t registered yet in my head. I keep the rifle up for a moment longer before lowering the barrel. “Um, yeah. I think so.”
Dad comes over to me. He places his hand on my shoulder, and gives me a single nod. “You did what you had to do, son. Don’t second guess your actions.”
Even with that said, it still doesn’t lessen the burden of taking a man’s life. Regardless if he was in his right mind or not.
I nod, sling the Remington over my shoulder, and give him a hug.
“Aww,” Dad mutters in discomfort.
“Are you hurt?” I step back and look him over, franticly searching for any wounds.
There’s blood splattered all over him. I can’t tell if it’s his or the chasers.
“This one got me good on my shoulder. I thought I killed him. I managed to take the other down though.” Dad’s shirt is ripped and torn open. His shoulder has a wide, bite-size indention in his flesh.
“We need to dress this to keep it from getting infected,” I stutter. I reach down to unlatch my gear.
Duke growls. In the distance, I can hear heavy footsteps beating the earth. Something is coming for us.
“There’s no time for that right now. We need to get back to the truck and down the mountain to your mom and sister. You still have the keys on you, right?”
“Yes sir, right here.” I remove the keys to the truck from my left pant pocket, and show them to Dad.
“Good.”
Some low growls and moaning creep up from the darkness. Barking and growling, Duke starts to advance forward, but I sharply order for him to stop. Although hesitant, his legs shifting in place, Duke groans and stays put.
“Come on, boy. We’re not staying any longer.” I grab Duke by the collar, and pull him backward. He pulls in the opposite direction, but then complies. Dad grabs his gear, and we’re on the move.
“You sure you’re ok, James?” Dad inquires with a painful wince. His body shifts away from any branches looking to probe the injury. His palm comes up, and he tries to conceal the bite marks.
“I’m good, Dad. Let’s just get down the mountain.” My voice trembles with dread, my body filled with a fight or flight response as my mind thinks of the deranged people we have encountered. “It’s the chasers, Dad. Dawson told me about them this morning. How did they get up here?”
“I don’t know, but everything is going to be all right.” Dad tries to reassure me as calmly as he can. He offers a jovial smile that struggles to break through the painful expression on his face. “Let’s just get back to the Bronco.”
“Do you think Mom and Cindy are ok?”
“Yes. I bet they’re snuggled in bed as we speak, sleeping the night away.”
I hope so.
More twigs and branches snap in succession from behind us. We stop and listen. They break, one right after the other. Is their more than one?
“How many do you think there are?” My voice trembles with fear.
“I don’t know, but we don’t need to find out. Keep moving.”
We pick up the pace, and double time it to the truck. We throw our gear in the back, and jump into the cab. My hands shake, my heart beating so fast that I struggle to focus on sliding the key into the ignition.
I miss the narrow slit not once but twice. I curse under my breath. My eyes cut out through the window in search of the chasers.
“Calm down, James,” Dad says in a weak tone.
Even in the dark of night, I can see Dad’s not fairing too well. His voice is becoming fainter, and he’s sweating so much. I’m not sure what’s wrong with him, but we need to get back to the house as fast as we can.
I do as Dad says and take a deep breath. Duke pants hard in my face.
I slip the right key in the ignition finally. I slap my hands together in jubilation. I fire up the Bronco. The headlights spring to life. In the distance, two figures appear. I point straight ahead at the two men standing in the woods.
“Um, Dad.”
Duke barks, bearing teeth and growling as they advance.
“Drive, James!”
I shove the Bronco in drive and hit the gas. The back tires spin out as the truck lunges backward. Bouncing over rocks and broken tree limbs, I move up to a narrow clearing that’s just big enough for me to turn around in.
“Watch out!” Dad warns. He lifts his injured arm and points through the pain gripping his body.
The chasers recklessly run into the driver’s side of the Bronco as I make the turn. The impact shatters the window and dents in the door. I lose control for a few seconds. My arms cover my face to shield it from the airborne glass.
“James, the wheel!” Dad reaches across and jerks the steering wheel hard to the right.
One figure slips under the back wheel with a brief moan cut short as the Bronco finishes him off, while the other holds onto the frame of the door.
His face is covered in blood, and portions of his skin have been ripped away from the busted glass. His right temple is bulging out from the impact.
He pokes his head inside the cab and snaps at me. He tries to bite my shoulder, but I move away.
“What do I do?” I yell. I keep leaning to the right as I try to get the Bronco back under control and on the trail.
&nbs
p; Dad falls back into his seat, grimacing as he palms the wound.
Duke barks in my ear and growls at the chaser. It’s making it even harder for me to concentrate.
I reach down with my left hand and yank on the door handle. The dented door flies open with the chaser attached to it. He’s only there for a few seconds before he plows into a boulder.
The door tears free from the frame, the crunch of metal and the squelch of our unwanted hitchhiker playing in my ears.
The cool night air floods into the cab. My body jostles from side to side freely with nothing holding it in place. I don’t have my seat belt on. The roughness of the trail makes it difficult to get the buckle secured. With the door missing and the rigidness of the terrain we’re plowing over, I need to get it fastened. Bouncing from side to side, I finally latch myself in.
I’m still frazzled from the attacks. My breathing is labored. Dad is now completely passed out. His head is being tossed wildly about like a bobble head toy.
“Pop!” I grab his arm, and shake it hard. “Dad!” My eyes leave the trail for a split second while I focus on him. At this point, I’m more concerned with him not responding than anything else.
Duke barks, jerking my attention back to the trail. A tree looms in front of us, racing forward. I jerk the wheel. Too late. The front end smashes into the tree, bringing us to a grinding halt.
CHAPTER EIGHT
My body is sore all over. My neck is stiff and my chest aches. Smoke from the engine filters into the cab, making it hard to breathe. Duke is barking, pausing every couple of seconds to lick my face before he continues on.
“All right, boy, I’m awake.” I push him away.
Duke hops over me to the outside and stops. He turns around and continues barking. He appears to be all right. He’s not walking with any type of limp, which makes me feel good. If anything would’ve happened to him, I’m not sure how I would’ve handled that.
“Ok, Duke. That’s enough, boy,” I mutter as I lean forward. Duke pauses his barking, giving me a reprieve from the noise.
How long have I been out?
The sun is coming up just over the horizon. I check the time on my watch. The numbers appear as smudges, unrecognizable at first. I blink to clear my vision.
6:58 A.M. Can’t believe we’ve been out for this long. To be honest, I really don’t know how long it’s been. Everything happened so fast that time seemed to stand still.
I glance over at Dad. He’s got a good size cut above his right eye now, and he’s still not moving. The color has left his face, and the gnawed meat on his shoulder is black and purple. It looks as though it is infected.
I unlatch the seat belt, and scoot across the bench seat.
I give him a subtle shake so as to not startle him too bad. “Pop, we need to get moving and get you back to the house, so Mom can take a look at you.”
Duke starts barking again wildly, making my head twist back. My stomach rumbles with fear. If more of the chasers are coming, I don’t see how we can get away.
“Duke, stop barking!” I snap angrily. He lowers his head and lies down on the ground.
“James...” Dad says in a weak voice. His eyes narrowly open. Both retinas are bloodshot. His face is painted with streaks of semi dried blood.
“Hey, Dad, I’m here,” I reply, feeling joy that he is now awake.
Disoriented, he blinks and shakes his head slightly. “What happened?”
“When we were leaving, more of those things attacked the Bronco. I managed to get rid of them, but ended up hitting a tree. I’m sorry.”
Dad puts his hand on my face. He tries to smile as he coughs up some blood. “Don’t be sorry, James. You did... good.”
“We need to get moving. If I have to, I’ll carry you down the rest of the way.” Tears fill my eyes. To be honest, I never thought I’d see him like this. To me, he has always been invincible.
Dad tries to move, but his body refuses to budge. I reach for his belt latch, trying to push it in, but it’s jammed. I fight and tug at the leather strap, trying to release him.
“Your seat belt is messed up or something. I can’t get it free.”
“James, don’t-”
“I’ll be right back.”
I scoot out the driver’s side door and get to the back of the Bronco. I climb inside the mess, finding that all of our gear has been jostled around.
Where is it?
After digging through everything for a good five minutes, I finally find my knife buried under our camping gear.
“Bark! Bark!” Duke is going to attract more attention than what we need right now.
“Come on, Duke, you need to be quiet before-” I say sternly as I slip out the back of the Bronco.
Duke’s bearing his teeth and growling at the cab of the truck.
“It’s just Dad. Stop growling at him. He’s hurt and in no mood for that,” I scold as I shake my finger at him.
As I near the cab, I hear strange noises emitting from within—almost like the moaning sounds the chasers made.
Duke ignores my order and stays poised to strike. He’s bearing his teeth, body rigid with his ears folded down.
“Dad?” The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. A sinking feeling fills the pit of my stomach as I slowly peer into the cab.
Tears blur my vision at the sight of my father. He’s still strapped in, struggling to break free as he reaches for me. Both of his eyes are now completely bloodshot. The look of a raving lunatic is all that remains. A chaser.
Holding the knife even tighter in my hand, I’m overwhelmed with a wave of emotions. Guilt, sorrow, and heartbreak all rolled up into a feast that I just can’t digest. Truly, a bitter pill to swallow.
“Dad, if you’re still in there please give me some kind of sign?” I plead. It’s a fool’s question, but one that I am clinging to none the less.
He lunges forward, even more intent on breaking free and attacking me. Duke’s growling grows deeper with every move Dad makes. He doesn’t trust him anymore, and maybe now I shouldn’t either.
“I’m sorry, Dad, but I have to get back to Mom and Cindy. I love you.”
Those are my final words as I force myself to walk away and head to the back of the Bronco. Dad’s still going crazy, thrashing about the cab and moaning wildly.
I quickly dig my gear out and my Remington. I make sure it’s loaded. Tears drip from my cheeks and land on the butt end of the stock. I can’t leave him like this. What if someone else comes across him and he attacks them? What if they kill Dad? However remote of a possibility it is, I still must consider it.
Holding the Remington tighter than I think I ever have before, I glance at the thing that was once my father. I stare hard, trying to find some glint or spark that lets me know that the man he once was is still in there, but the longer I stay in his sight the more enraged Dad gets.
With every thrust and wild thrash, Dad manages to free a portion of his body. He’s now lying on the bench seat. His legs are snared in the seat belt as he reaches for me.
Indecision swirls inside of me. I’m lost as to what I should do. This is the biggest decision that I’ve ever been faced with, and I’m ill prepared to make it. After all, it’s my father’s life that hangs in the balance.
I spin away from the cab. I stomp my boots against the earth in anguish. My hand balls into a fist. Swelled with anger and sadness, I curse the sky with every colorful word that springs to mind.
Lost in the ether of darkness that consumes my mind, I hear a dull thump hit the ground behind me. Duke growls and advances forward, which turns my attention back toward the truck.
Dad is on the ground, prone on his stomach. He glances up at me. His eyes are wide, rage filling both as his teeth chatter rapidly. He reaches out for me. His fingers dig into the dirt. I snare Duke by the collar, and hold him at bay. I don’t want Dad to get injured, and I don’t want him to infect Duke.
I defuse Duke’s tense posture, and divert him away from Da
d. I back away slowly as my heart pounds inside my chest. He pushes himself up off the ground. His balance is off, swaying from side to side as his chest heaves in and out.
I offer one last plea from a lost son to his father, begging for some sort of sign.
“If there’s still a shred of you left in there, Dad, you have to let me know now. Please.”
My words fall on deaf ears that are no longer capable of understanding.
There is no loving embrace here. I’ve gotten my answer.
I bring the Remington to bear with an unsteady grip. My face floods with tears. My emotions wreck me through and through. My stomach ties in knots, and acts as though it may release any food that resides within it at any second.
I train the crosshairs on Dad.
Part of me screams out on the inside. Yelling ”Stop!” and “What the hell do you think you are doing?” But I ignore that side. I am now put into a no-win situation that will only end in heartbreak. Regardless of what happens next, there will pain for me to bear.
He lunges for me with his arms outstretched in front of him. His boots hammer the grass covered hill briskly.
I pull the trigger. The Remington kicks back into my shoulder. One shot, through the middle of the head, and it’s done. Dad stops. He stumbles forward and falls face first onto the ground.
I lower the Remington to my side. My heart breaks into a million fragile, tiny pieces. My legs give out, and I fall to my knees, sobbing in my hands at my loss.
Duke nudges me. He gently licks the river of tears flowing down my red cheeks. I grab him by the neck and give him a big hug, thanking Dad for bringing him home that day.
Pulling myself together as best I can, I get back to my feet, and look in the direction of home. I know Dad would want me to get back to Cindy and Mom, and make sure they’re ok.
I give one final look to my father before we leave.
R.I.P. Pop!
CHAPTER NINE
I’m spent. The pack on my back feels like I’m lugging around boulders. It’s taken most of the morning for me and Duke to make it down the trail on foot. I had to stop a half dozen times to rest my burning leg muscles.
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