by Francis Bate
They traveled along the river for minutes as they watch the marsh glide by in a blur. Tall and sturdy trees, as well as small kind, interlined the riverbanks. He heaved as the water splashed with the rhythm of the bow. It created waves making the craft leap in every force.
Stan looked up to the sky as if searching for something. It was blue without the presence of cottony formation. He switched his look around the place stopping his gaze at Walter, the captain.
“Speed up, I hear the sound of a helicopter nearby,” Stan ordered, glancing up again to watch the sky. The blue was now covered with a large aircraft shadowing them underneath. Increasing the speed, the boat jiggled to the waters splashing heavily on both sides. Its engine raced with the aircraft.
Stan looked up to see a camouflaged man setting a semi-auto rifle towards their aim.
“Duck!” Stan yelled crouching forward covering his head with both his arms.
The first shot was fired hitting the water. “Speed up!” He ordered, making the captain tremble in fear.
With shaking hands, he sped up and ducked to the sound of another shot.
The helicopter moved a little lower leaving few meters gap from them. They fired another shot, hitting Walter Popov on his nape. He fell forward to the steering wheel steadying it from steering. Leaving the engine on its maximum speed, the boat was almost nearing the riverbank.
Stan grabbed the bloody shirt, throwing the cold body out to the water. The lifeless body sunk receiving another gunshot from above.
Taking control of the steering wheel, Stan held it with one hand with his head bent on a side. He steered to the left avoiding the bank and creating a new direction. Letting the steering wheel dance on his hold, he swiveled to the right and back to the left avoiding the bullets that rapidly drift through the air.
The three men remained in their ducking position. From a short distance, Stan saw the approaching waters shaded with trees and branches. It created an archway covering the water from the sunlight. The river became narrow and he heard the helicopter pull up a little bit.
Stan maneuvered the fishing boat as the men fired their final shot. Someone stood to impose them as he faced the strong heat of the sun. He felt a heavy force on the port as the body tumbled. The man named Pete was shot right in the head leaving the body on the boat. The boat immediately pivoted following the force it has added onto one side.
Stan held onto the steering wheel and added some weight on the left controlling it from upturning.
“Drop the body into the water!” He yelled but no one followed. “Drop the body in the water!” He repeated making the shaking men carry it and dropped the body in the water as instructed.
The boat returned to its normal pace as it entered the arc. Stan heard the helicopter above the arc, still following them. He hardly pulled the brake and steered into the small improvised port along the river. It stopped almost hitting the wooden platform.
Sighing, they stayed there for a minute and carried his packs out to the ground.
The two men straightened up and stepped out of the boat. They stood beside Stan still panicking.
“I’m still alive! I couldn’t believe it, whew!” One man said, smiling brightly to the forest. He checked his body and pulse, even pinching his hand.
“That was tough! It felt like the actual computer game my son used to play every day,” another man exclaimed. Chuckling, they both high fived and sighed.
Stan walked into the woods, seeing the figures trail behind him. They looked worn out and a little old. One man showed a wrinkly skin while the other was nearly the same.
“We have to find the road back and we’re parting ways from there,” Stan urged, earning their agreements.
“Can you make it out alone?” The leader asked him, looking around the wild.
Stan nodded, offering a weak smile. “I’ve been walking alone for a long time now,” he responded. They both looked at him in disbelief. Chuckling, he shrugged his shoulders.
“You have learned a lot from it, then. That explains your expertise in avoiding those guards or you are really good at escaping.” Stan laughed, clutching at his stomach. The two stared at him, joining him in his verve.
“Well, you will actually learn from your experience,” he started, turning the mood in a serious tone. “So, we have to part ways from here. Stay away from the troopers.”
They said their last waves and left on different routes. Stan fixed his packs and walked comfortably. He puffed some air and felt his hands sway on his side.
The wind blew making the leaves whistle on its stem. When he glanced up, he saw a tiny ray of light from the leaves. That was their final cue.
It was almost afternoon when Chris and his group docked in a meager port after a long journey. They entered a narrow river and slowed down when they were nearing a wharf. It looked deserted for a thousand years. The woods have started to deteriorate in the water and various organisms were kissing it.
Malcolm steered the boat preparing to dock. They watched him as he navigated the boat in every calculation. They all glanced up to a sound of rustling dried leaves.
“Hands up!” The man shouted pointing a pistol at them. His eyes were deep and dark circles were rounding it. “Put your hands up and follow what I say!”
They glanced at him and exchanged looks. They hesitantly raised their hands but Chris was in an alert stance.
“What do you need? We can have a trade or we can talk this out,” Chris bargained, trying to negotiate with him.
“Give me your supplies and everything you have there that could be used,” the man ordered, locking his gaze at them.
“Chill man, okay. We are packing the goods for you. We are putting it in a pack so it could be easier for you to carry,” Chris said in a soft voice. He bent down putting some canned goods in the bag.
The man extended his neck trying to see what he was doing. He saw him throw the cans and bottles in it.
When Chris straightened, he angled his hand parallel to his chest pulling the trigger of his gun. The man released the gun from his hand dropping it to the ground. Blood started oozing out from his hands and he cried out in pain.
Malcolm steered the boat away from the wharf to an unplanned direction, leaving the man on the wharf. It went a few more miles away. Disoriented, the boat went reverse hitting the stern in a sandbar. His hands were sweaty and he was trembling in panic.
The impeller got stuck in the sand strained to spin on it. It has trimmed up tossing sand in the air. It rotated until it died down.
Releasing the anchor in the water, the four men moved out to twist the boat. They shoved the boat back into the water and twirled it letting the bow in the sandbar. Malcolm stepped inside to restart the engine but it won’t budge.
“This is bad; I think it needs some repair,” Malcolm stated, looking at them.
“Check the needle on the temperature gauge,” Nick ordered. Among them, he has due knowledge in machines and mechanical parts.
“It’s rising, Nick.” Stepping back to the sand, they pulled the boat towards them and twirled it until the stern was facing them.
Nick assessed the problem seeing sand and weeds in its outdrive and props. It was obstructed slowing the water flow.
Finding more intakes, Nick cleaned it out freeing from debris. He checked for further problems and internal clogging but there was none.
Pushing the boat back to the water, Malcolm went in and started the engine. At first try, it failed him. He tried it again hearing the uproar of the engine making them jump in joy.
“The advantage of having friends with different specialties and expertise,” Malcolm smiled, tapping his chest in pride.
“Except for you, Mal. You’re just good at creating problems such as this,” Drew exclaimed with a smirk on his face. Chris and Nick chuckled while Malcolm was already throwing daggers at him.
“Just like you, Drew. I think I’ve taken my skills from you,” he ridiculed causing a louder laugh resonat
ing in the background.
“Hey, let’s get going now before anyone dares for a fight. I and Nick will bet that both of you are just the same,” Chris added in a serious voice hiding the chuckles on his face.
Behind him was Nick who was laughing at their facial expressions. Both of them mirrored an image with their jaw hung in disbelief. Chris was good at hiding his emotions so they could barely determine whether he was serious or not.
“Hey! Have you seen a ghost? Your expressions say so,” Chris stated, getting their attentions back. “I said we have to go.”
The three stepped into the boat and Chris started the engine in replacement of Malcolm. They sat down as they listened to the exhilarating engine of the boat.
“I’ll take charge of the navigation,” Chris muttered painting a stern look on his face.
“That’s better, Chris. We could die if it was Malcolm,” Drew responded with a smirk avoiding the deathly glares being thrown at him.
Chris steered the boat and it moved forward leading them to a cabin. It stood on a plastered slab at the edge of the riverbank, leaning against a sturdy tree. A variety of fishing rods and spears were hung around the wooden frame. There were fishnets pinned in proportion.
The men edged towards the cabin and searched the place. It seemed like it was dwelled in by a poacher. A grilling area was rusting in position.
Drew took the fishnet off the rope and cast it into the river. He fixed the net and left it for a moment. The others were setting up a camp near the cabin as the dusk was falling.
“We’ll spend the night here. Check the area for any suspicious objects or anything,” Chris instructed and bent down grabbing a knife from its holster. “Nick and I will go into the wild to look for food and get some firewood that we could use.”
“Stay away from each other, you two. We won’t care if you kill each other while we were gone but better not attract somebody’s attention,” Nick said grabbing his waistband and wearing it on. He gripped Chris’s waistband on the ground and handed it to him.
After making sure that the two men were in good fate, they left them doing their own business. Chris and Nick strode into the forest inspecting it. The aged trees were complemented with the snapping boughs as it stretched away from the crinkly ground. It awakened the sleeping souls of the citadels.
Fairy ring champignon grew under the shady dome of the forest. Chris knelt down and pulled every edible from the ground. At another angle, Nick saw some wild berries ripening freely on its host. He picked it tasting a sweet orchard taste.
When they were done, they picked up some crackling twigs clasping in on their arms. They stopped in their tracks when they heard a gunshot nearby. Running to the sound of the gun, they hid behind a tree when they saw two familiar soldiers leaving a cadaver lying on the ground. Peeping through the barks, they watched as they marched out to their jeeps.
“How good would this be if we would just kill every person we encounter?” They heard a man exclaimed with a chuckle. It seemed like they were enjoying the order given to them.
“I’m sure as hell will do the same to the four dangerous men we are ordered to hunt. The shoot to kill order has been released,” the other man said as they walked through the woods.
Chris glanced at their jeep seeing three more men on it.
The men left cueing them to appear in sight as they ran towards the body. Blood soaked around his body as he lay with his face on the ground. Chris turned the body revealing the man they have encountered earlier.
“Let’s go, Chris. They must be worried sick about the gunshot,” Nick urged gripping at the woods on his arms.
Chris stood up and jogged away from the man back to their camp.
After few minutes, loud tone of voices echoed throughout the forest. They carefully hid behind some trees as they kept watch of what was happening in the camp. They listened but they could barely hear. Getting a little closer, both of them chuckled silently.
“Drew, you heard it a while ago, right? It came from the forest; it was minutes ago but they haven’t come back yet. I think something happened. We have to go look for them!” Malcolm yelled forgetting where they were. He was pacing back and forth bowing his head in thought.
“It’s too dangerous out there! We should stay and wait until the situation calms down,” Drew responded containing his worry.
“You are impossible!” He cussed allowing the color on his face change in an instant. “I will go check them; you leave here and wait for them!” He added, pulling his holster from the log and wearing it on.
“I won’t stop you from there. If something happens to you, I won’t be liable for it,” Drew muttered in a straight face. He did not even look at him.
“Sure! Go ahead and wait until God knows when. I am going in,” he insisted before he edged to the forest.
Recognizing the voices, Chris showed up startling them. Nick stood behind him raising his brows at Malcolm.
“Oh, you’re alive!” Malcolm bantered with a mirthless chuckle. He could hear Drew laughing loudly from behind. “I thought you encountered danger inside. Did you hear the gunshot?”
Chris walked to the center of the camp dropping the woods from his hands. Nick imitated him as he placed the wild edibles covered with a leaf on the floor.
“Yes, we heard and we saw what happened back there,” Nick stated, placing the leaf full of berries on the ground.
“What happened?” Malcolm asked with wide eyes. “Did you kill someone with a gun?”
“Close but we watched someone gets killed. Remember the man Chris shot in the wharf?” Nick asked looking at them. The two nodded in unison. “Two men shot them mentioning about the command from the superior to kill every person they encounter.”
Gasping in disbelief, Malcolm flinched and looked at Chris for confirmation. Chris nodded with his head bent as he cleaned the mushrooms off its dirt.
“They have released an order to kill us wherever and whenever they find us, too,” Chris said before standing and heading to the river.
Chris rinsed the mushrooms and the berries and brought it back to the camp. Nick was already starting a fire out of the woods they’ve gathered. Tiny flames came out with the crunching sound of the twigs. He added some dried leaves making the fire burst out.
“So that means the world is not safe for us to thrive,” Malcolm sighed and gritted his teeth. “Our world has turned smaller now.”
“Are you afraid now, Mal?” Drew teased staring at him.
“I’m afraid for your life, Drew,” Malcolm answered back, feigning hurt.
Cringing, Drew went to the river to check the net. Dusk has pulled out painting the horizon with its bloody hue. It was weeping as it swallowed the golden orb in whole.
Pulling the fishnet out, Drew smiled seeing two big fishes flipping on it. He brought it to them and laid it on the ground. The fishes sprung in the ground and stopped when Drew smashed their heads.
“Wow! Those are big ones, huh. The water is still full of grace, look at these healthy fishes here,” Nick exclaimed picking the fishes with his finger.
Drew took two stick from the branches they have collected and sharpened two of them. He removed the outer bark and honed an edge of the stick. Nick took his knife incising the stomach of the fish and cleaned it. Washing the stomach with water, he removed the innards and repeatedly washed it again.
He took some champignons and put it in its stomach before piercing the fish with a stick. The stick pierced through the lateral line and out to the mouth. He placed the sticks on the grill allowing the glowing coal to slowly cook it.
They all sat on the logs circling the campfire while Nick watched the grilling fish behind him.
Chris brought the radio from his sack and turned it on. Searching for a reliable channel, he stopped to a channel with emergency reports from it.
They listened to each report from different people around the country. Gripping at the device in his hand, he stayed silent ingesting the emergenc
ies being transmitted.
Nick twisted the fishes; the brown coloration on the skin was evident. The juiciness poured out when he pinched it. Letting the coal cook its inside, he added more glow for a higher heat.
It was early evening when the fishes were cooked. They divided each fish into two for the four of them. As they enjoyed their meals, they watched as the fire lowered down. The flames sparked releasing red-orange flickers in the air.
Jarvis glanced at the road sign as he passed into a small city. While entering Inverness, Jarvis looked for a place to stop as he heard his stomach churn. He turned right into a narrow dirt road. A man in his khaki shorts and fitted shirt with flip flops donning his feet was walking in the center of the road.
Too preoccupied to see that he has company, he looked around to the resonating shout from behind.
“What the hell are you doing? Are you trying to kill yourself, kid?” Jarvis yelled stunning the man in front. “Hey!” He shouted again making the boy turn to him.
The boy approached the edge in alarm waiting for him to pass through. Jarvis moved forward, stopping at the façade of the boy. He scrutinized him seeing fishing tackles on both his hands.
“Wanna hitch a ride?” Jarvis offered in a soft voice. He looked at him observing his features.
The boy looked at his truck and back to the driver. He edged to the back of the truck placing his tackles in the trunk. After ensuring his supplies, he ran to the passenger’s door opening it and he slid in.
“We can go fishing together. The long drive made me so hungry,” Jarvis said in a sing-song voice, paying side glances at the boy.
“How’d you know I’m going fishing?” He asked, staring at him. He held the handlebar gripping on it, his body swayed with the truck.
“Do you doubt my fishing skills and knowledge? I saw your tackle and only fishermen bring that equipment with them,” he replied, planting a smirk on his face.
“Oh, yeah! But my bait is not enough for us so I have to dig some worms in the mud,” he responded, fiddling with his fingers.