The First Ones

by Michael Weinberger

  “To defeat Kaylanna, I guess.” Jet said in way of agreement.

  Ursula stiffened, “Wait, what…?” and Jet felt her release him and guide his body around to face her, “...that’s what you think?”

  Jet was taken aback by Ursula’s reaction, “I mean... Well, I guess... Sure, I thought that was why you and Aurora allowed me to join you on the road.”

  “That’s…” Ursula looked away, and Jet could see that despite the frown on her face, she wasn’t really upset. Not exactly at least, and instead she had the look of someone who knew the answer to a riddle, and although she desperately wanted to discuss it, she understood that Jet had to figure it out on his own first.

  When she looked back into Jet’s eyes, her face had softened, “A lot more has happened than you realize but, for now, is it enough for me to just say that I love you?”

  He raised his hands, placing them on both sides of her face, saying “More than enough.” And then he added, “I’m not going to let something, like the fact that you are going to stay so...” Jet took one hand off her face and waved it up and down Ursula’s body, “... so perfect for the rest of my life, keep me from you.” Jet smiled, “Although I definitely think I am getting the better end of the deal.”

  Ursula pulled Jet to her and kissed him softly at first, then their arms tightened around each other and they kissed deeply, almost desperately, before a car horn blared from outside.

  Jet and Ursula broke the kiss with a chuckle, as Ursula said ironically, “I guess we don’t have time after all.”

  She pulled away but Jet reached for her hand, stopping her.

  “Later,” he said simply, and the smile Ursula gave him in reply warmed him almost as much as their kiss had done.

  Together they moved to the front door and Jet held it open as Ursula walked through to see Benjamin climbing from his new Ford F150, Harley Davidson edition. Ursula’s father, and Ancient Spirit Bear, was wearing a ridiculous grin on his face, but his body language told the real story. He was exhausted and walked slightly stooped over, which was in direct contrast to the way he had been when Jet had seen him this morning.

  Ursula seemed to notice it as well, and a look of concern crossed her face, “Dad? You okay?”

  Benjamin, who had been walking around to the passenger side of the truck froze and he glared at Ursula with a look that would have frozen the most hardened soldier or violent criminal in their tracks.

  Ursula smiled and held up her hands in surrender, “Oops. Sorry.”

  Jet immediately realized the meaning behind the look and quickly covered his mouth with a hand and turned away from Benjamin, just in case the laugh he was trying to stifle managed to escape. Benjamin immediately turned his glare to Jet, but quickly abandoned it for a different expression, this one being his own look of surrender, as he walked the rest of the way around the truck and opened the rear passenger door. Reaching inside he worked at the interior until his body emerged with Aurora fast asleep in one arm, and more than a dozen shopping bags, complete with a collection of colorful helium balloons tied in an attractive bunch, in the other.

  “Dad!” Ursula earnestly whispered, to both express her disapproval, and yet not awaken the sleeping child, “do you even try to say ‘no’ to her?”

  Ben defensively whispered back in the same manner, “There is no word for ‘no’ in grandpa-speak.”

  “Dad,” Ursula moaned, but the smile on her face diminished any impact the word might have had.

  Ben just waved the hand with all the bags and balloons in front of himself dismissing her protests, “Grandfather’s prerogative,” and then the big man walked up the steps and into the cabin. As he passed between them Jet noticed there was something pressed between Aurora and Benjamin and guessed it to be a stuffed toy of some sort. His attention was quickly averted by the cuteness of the giant man fawning over the tiny child as Benjamin only acknowledged Jet with a wink before he carried Aurora into the cabin and toward her bedroom.

  Ursula watched her father go and shook her head, “She wore him out.”

  Jet let out the laugh he had been holding, “Just goes to show you that no one, not even an Ancient Spirit Bear, can hope to match the same energy output as a toddler.”

  Ursula nodded, “He’ll want to sleep on the couch again tonight.”

  “Fine by me.”

  Ursula smiled and she hugged herself, “I can’t ever remember him being this happy.”

  “Do you think Aurora remembers any of it?” Jet wondered.

  “I hope not. She hasn’t shown any sign. Maybe forgetting was a parting gift from the First One when it left her?”

  Jet thought about it, “Maybe. Or maybe that little girl remembers it all, but was never afraid. Who knows what she actually experienced when the First One was inside her.”

  At those words Jet noticed the gooseflesh that had risen on Ursula’s arms, “Are you cold?”

  “Not really,” Ursula made an effort to shake off the words as she entwined one of her arms in his, “I’m just ready to go back inside.”

  ***

  Later that evening Jet made his way from the back of the cabin to the kitchen and found Benjamin already asleep, softly snoring on the new leather sofa. Abandoning the impulse for a snack, Jet made his way to Aurora’s bedroom, cracking the door a bit to see the child sleeping in her light pink, zip-up onesie with her feet kicking gently in the attached booties as she dreamed whatever dream normal two-year-olds have. Jet walked quietly into the room to tuck in her blankets, taking in the new, oversized, light brown teddy bear in Aurora’s arms. The bear was so big and plush that her little arms couldn’t fit all the way around it, but that certainly hadn’t stopped her from completely snuggling into it. Jet tucked the blankets in around her waist and noticed the three words embroidered on the bottom of one of the bear’s feet.

  “My Grandpa Ben” was written in gold thread.

  Jet nodded and whispered, “I guess you do remember, at least some of it.”

  Jet left Aurora’s room, closing the door as silently as he could, before he returned to his bedroom. He was smiling, and couldn’t wait to tell Ursula about the teddy bear, but as he walked through his door Ursula greeted him from the bed. Jet took in the sight of her naked form, revealed only by the lamp on the nightstand as she lay expectantly on her side, her head resting in the crook of her arm with the sheets in front of her pulled back, welcoming him.

  “It’s later,” she softly breathed.

  He moved to the bedside and, without taking his eyes from hers, he smiled even wider and reached for the light switch.

  He replied, “Indeed it is,” and switched off the light.

  Author’s Note: Things to come...

  Hello Dear Reader,

  I wanted to take a moment to thank you for taking the time to read my work and hope you found it as enjoyable to read as it was for me to create for you. You may have noticed that the story is set to continue and hopefully you are eager for more! Not to worry, I created this series with the intention to release the next book very soon along with other works of mine you might like to try as well.

  Also, I’d like to take a moment to humbly ask if you could leave a quick, or otherwise, review. It would be greatly appreciated as reviews help new readers locate my work out of the ocean of books available as well as providing valuable feedback toward my future writing endeavors.

  The best place to submit your review is wherever you purchased the book OR you can go to my website: Weinbergerbooks.com and click on a link that will take you to a “Review” page.

  You can also find me on Goodreads, Facebook, Instagram and YouTube. Links to all of these social media sites are conveniently located on my website. If you are interested in my other works please sign up on my Website’s “Newsletter” and get the latest regarding my current books, upcoming release dates, and everything else that is happening in my little literary world.

  In the meantime, please enjoy the following pages from the ne
xt book in the series.

  Happy Reading!

  - Michael Louis Weinberger

  Dark Spirits of the Forest:

  Chapter 1

  Stephen “Sakima” LaRose shook his head in frustration as he listened to the three hunters crash through the scrub-like undergrowth of the forest. Hired as their guide Stephen tried to boost his spirits repeated to himself over and over again how he had been paid in advance and his guide fees weren’t contingent upon these men actually shooting anything. Unfortunately, empty game bags were going to be the likely outcome, given the way his clients bumbled around in the woods and scared everything shot-worthy away from the vicinity with their noise. Still, when it comes to hunting, sometimes all you had to go on with was the hope for some simple, dumb luck. Stephen knew it wasn’t something he could count on, but at this point it was the only chance that the potential gratuity he might receive at the end of the trip would be bolstered. After all, happy and successful hunters always tipped more than did happy but unsuccessful hunters and, to be honest, Stephen needed to make a little extra money whenever possible right now. It was why he had led these city-boys into this particular part of the forest, despite it being forbidden by his tribe. The area had been banned for years from human access, but Stephen was counting on this lack of human encroachment to result in the wildlife having been unpressured by hunters for all that time. It didn’t sit well with him to go against the elders, but Stephen knew it was going to be his best chance to put these noisy city-boys on a deer.

  The clients had been nice enough when they arrived two days ago. Just some old friends, former college roommates or something, looking to have some “bro” time away from their city lives. Stephen had even been encouraged when he had seen them shoot on the range but, unfortunately, as soon as they were in the woods he could tell that they really didn’t know what they were doing. They instantly turned to their gear to do the work for them, as if it was all they needed to get the job done by wearing heavy leather, rubber-soled boots from one of the major outfitters. Attractive though the boots were, they were more akin to athletic shoes and made loud crunching noises as they trampled everything underfoot, no matter how lightly they trod. Their clothes were similarly waterproofed, and he had even seen labels about “scent control” adorning the sleeves and collars. They had night vision binoculars, laser equipped range finders, fire starter kits, water purification tubes and hydration packs strapped to their bodies and GPS positioning systems, along with all manner of fancy hunting knives and, last but not at all least, a scent controlling spray with Thermacel electronic insect repellant systems to insulate them from the environment. Oh, they certainly had all the modern gear they could ever want of need, but they didn’t manage to bring a lick of skill into the woods.

  Stephen cringed as yet another dry twig snapped behind him as he led them further into the forest while thinking about the time when he was a boy and had been taught to walk slowly and silently when in the woods of the Ojibwe Bad River Reservation. How his lessons had taught him to concentrate on what his simple moccasin clad feet could feel on the forest floor before deciding whether he should set his weight down. He didn’t need scent controlling equipment or sprays because he had learned how to read the breeze in order keep himself downwind of his quarry. He knew when to move, when to be still, what to listen for and learned to pay attention to whatever the forest was telling him at any given moment.

  Stephen shook off the distracting thoughts as a frigid blast of air swirled around his body. Initially he thought that the wind had shifted and they might have to change locations or be busted by literally every animal in the forest having a nose. Stephen was about to signal his charges of the change he intended when the cold temperature of the breeze registered in his brain and a warning bell metaphorically sounded in his mind. It was the wrong time of year for such a bone chilling cold and, as Stephen rubbed his arms, he realized that it wasn’t a simple drop in temperature. Instead, there was something ominous about the area, almost as though the forest or something within it had suddenly turned malevolent. Stephen stopped and took in his surroundings but found he could no longer “read” the forest. The leaves and branches bent randomly in the swirling air, and the natural sounds had all gone silent.

  Stephen’s clients had halted when Stephen had and now they shivered as they waited for their guide to move and could understand something was awry. One by one they began to look uneasily at each other keeping quiet until the nerves of the first of their group broke.

  “What’s wrong?” one of them whispered.

  Stephen heard the nervous question that had been asked, but he didn’t reply. Instead he held up a finger indicating his need for a moment to think, as well as to have them be quiet so he might listen.

  Then the man spoke again, “Is it a bear?”

  “I didn’t hear anything,” another answered.

  “Maybe wolves then? Because I heard they are having a problem with wolves…”

  Stephen angrily shushed them as he squinted at a movement in the distance ahead of them. He could only make out a blur of shadow that seemed to be darting from tree to tree as it headed toward them. The movement didn’t seem random. It was as if something was moving between the trunks, taking cover momentarily behind each tree, as it stalked toward their position.

  “Hey,” one of the men laughed nervously, whispering, “Maybe it’s Bigfoot!”

  Stephen ignored them, pulling his Stainless Steel .44 Magnum Smith and Wesson 8” barreled model 629 revolver from its holster. Stephen always brought along his large revolver, solely in case they ran into a bear, and he pointed the weapon in the direction of the movement. The sight of the large caliber handgun sent an alarm through the hunters, who knew what the revolver was for as they all knelt behind their guide and began raising their rifles as one, pointing them in the same general direction as he was looking.

  “Oh shit,” one whispered a frightened curse, “it is a bear.”

  “Not a bear”, Stephen quickly volunteered, in order to keep the men from panicking.

  “Wolves, then?” asked another.

  Stephen didn’t answer right away, but his voice cracked when he finally responded, “I’m not sure, but it can’t be good.”

  The youngest of the trio grew skeptical, “Not a bear, not wolves… are we back on the Bigfoot theory?”

  The other men chuckled quietly as Stephen let out his breath, somewhat calmed by the humor as well. He concentrated on the last tree where he had seen the shadow “hide” and waited for any more movement, but it didn’t come. Stephen blinked rapidly, trying to clear his eyes as he stared at the tree’s trunk... nothing happened.

  At last Stephen began to doubt himself and figured he had been seeing things. As if on cue, the wind stopped swirling and the world went back to the way it was supposed to be. There was still the lack of the normal sounds of the forest’s birds and bugs, but slowly Stephen lowered the revolver and turned to his customers.

  The three hunters stayed low and looked at Stephen, waiting to be told what to do. He looked back at them and made a slight downward motion with his hand, indicating they should stay put, while he moved forward to take a look around. The hunters’ heads nodded and then Stephen made an additional flicking motion with his hands, a signal he had taught the men before they had left deer camp. The signal indicated they should engage their rifles’ safety switches so they wouldn’t fire on anything by mistake. Stephen could tell the men were nervous and he didn’t want to accidentally get shot by any overzealous or frightened clients. He waited until he heard three distinct clicks of the safety switches engaging before he stepped forward, toe first, with every stride as the random thought that the hunters, who were watching his silent stalking technique, could learn something useful while he investigated.

  It took nearly five minutes for Stephen to travel the fifty yards to get to the tree trunk where he had last seen that blur, but nothing was there. There were no tracks or other telltale in
dication that anything had ever been there and Stephen felt his stomach turning in a slight apprehension, as he was hoping to see some sign. Even if it was a bear the tracks would have revealed if it had been a black bear, or worse a grizzly, and whether it was a sow with cubs or a lone boar.

  Confused, but satisfied that it was now safe, Stephen waved to the hunters, who stood and lowered their weapons.

  “Find anything?” one of the hunters shouted.

  “No,” Stephen answered, while trying to keep any nervousness out of his voice, “I think we’re good.”

  “Sun’s going down, should we start heading back?” he was asked.

  The hunter sounded a little spooked, and Stephen nodded to himself in agreement, as he didn’t feel quite right about the current situation either. He’d spent his whole life in these woods and just knew something was amiss, but he’d be damned if he knew what it was.

  “Yeah,” Stephen called back, “let’s…”

  And a sound interrupted him, sounding like the rapid flapping of a flag in high wind, making him whirl and raise the handgun to shoot... Nothing! Only the trees and a small scrub brush surrounded him and the leaf strewn ground.

  “…what the hell?” he exclaimed.

  It hadn’t been a threatening sound and perhaps he was just jumpy, but Stephen caught himself holding his breath as he continued to scan the area. He hadn’t even lowered his revolver when he heard it again, this time it came from higher up in the trees and he looked up, almost expecting to see some kind of fabric stuck in a tree, when his eyes locked on something…impossible.

  A man, or something like a person, was hovering nearly twenty feet off the ground. It wasn’t large, and in fact seemed quite emaciated. It looked like a bunch of skin and bones, with wisps of hair on top and deeply sunken empty sockets where its eyes should have been. Skin so pale it actually looked translucent as it hung loosely over its skeleton, gave the creature a look like a petrified mummy, but this mummy clearly regarded Stephen maliciously as it floated. Its back was straight, and it stood tall and erect, as if filled with power and confidence, despite its otherwise frail appearance. Its body was covered by tatters of a fabric that had once been clothing, but was now reduced to torn, abraded and filthy rags that flapped haphazardly in the breeze.