The Whittier Trilogy

by Michael W. Layne

  “She’s marked with your scent. After what happened yesterday with the bear at the stream, I think the animals will leave her alone.”

  Trent looked at Christina—studying her face—deciding she was telling the truth.

  “I meant it, you know?” she said. “I do like her, but it still feels a little strange. I know we only had that one night, but then again…that was some night. And now you’ve got a girlfriend already. I guess I thought there was something more between us.”

  “She’s special. Back in Vegas, I would’ve died without her there to help guide me through whatever it is that you did to me.”

  “Maybe that’s it. But I think she gave you something to live for,” she said, with a sad smile.

  Trent didn’t respond.

  “If you would have waited around, I might have come with you,” she said.

  “You told me that Whittier was your home,” he said. “That you had to stay and look after your people—that you had to make sure the curse never went beyond the town.”

  Christina nodded.

  “That’s right. And the people here are fine now.”

  Trent shrugged out of the sleeping bag and stood up.

  “Except for me,” he said as he started to get dressed. “I’m not fine.”

  “I got…carried away that night with you. You know that. Whatever we had between us was wild and primal, and it made me forget my responsibilities and lose my senses. I had no way of knowing the spirit would enter you through that bite. Like I told you—nothing’s happened like that since back when the base was being built by the soldiers.”

  Trent put his black suit jacket on, then his winter coat.

  “I know you didn’t mean to do this to me, but you did, and I need your help getting rid of it.”

  “That’s what I’m trying to do, Trent,” she said, with glistening eyes. “Please don’t be mad at me.”

  Trent sat back down on top of the sleeping bags and put an arm around her shoulders.

  Christina wiped the corners of her eyes.

  “You really like her, don’t you?”

  Trent nodded.

  “I’m glad you’re still wearing the necklace I gave you, at least,” she said, pointing to the polished silver disc hanging from around his neck. “Makes me think you weren’t actively trying to forget me.”

  She tried to laugh, but only a weak facsimile of mirth came out of her throat.

  Trent reached over and touched her hand.

  “I did try to forget about you,” he said, pausing, “but I couldn’t. I also couldn’t help what happened between Zana and me. That still doesn’t change what you and I had. It’s just that…life gets messy sometimes.”

  Christina looked out at the stream—the ripples from its current broke the silence of the morning forest.

  “You know you’re right,” she said.

  “About what?”

  “Zana. She is special. She has…an awareness to her.”

  Trent mulled over Christina’s words just as he looked up and saw Zana returning—making her way along the near bank of the water. In one hand, she held a makeshift fishing pole and in the other, she had a firm grip on breakfast.

  Chapter 30

  ZANA HELD a large fish high in the air.

  “I think it’s a salmon. I have some jerky from the cabin in my pack, too, if you’re not in the mood for fish.”

  As soon as she finished speaking, Zana looked at them and squinted her eyes. Trent knew she was observant enough to tell that he and Christina had just been discussing something serious. And she was smart enough to figure that they had probably been talking about their past relationship.

  For the first time since Trent had known her, Zana looked uneasy and upset as she shuffled into camp and set the fish down on a tree stump.

  Trent felt a pain in his chest when he looked at her.

  When she raised her face, he could see that her eyes were moist.

  Before he could say anything, an arrow whizzed past Zana, grazing her right arm and sticking in the sand at the stream’s edge. Blood seeped from the wound, and Zana fell to the ground with a howl.

  Trent and Christina ran to her and dragged her behind a cluster of trees. Trent noted the angle of the arrow sticking out of the sand and stuck his head out just enough to look in the direction from where the arrow had come.

  From his angle so close to the ground, all he could see was dense forest.

  “Who’s out there?” Trent yelled.

  There was no response.

  He stepped out and waved his hands above his head, thinking that the arrow must have been an accidental shot from a hunter.

  Just as Christina pulled him back behind the trees, another arrow tore through the air where his face had just been.

  “What are you doing?” Christina said through gritted teeth.

  “I was trying to let him know he was shooting at humans instead of animals.”

  Christina started to say something, then just shook her head.

  “Could you see anyone?”

  “There’s one guy kneeling about fifty yards away, in the woods. He’s dressed in camo, but I couldn’t see much else. And I’m pretty sure he’s using a crossbow versus a composite bow.”

  He turned to Zana.

  “I know that must hurt like hell, but we gotta go, babe. We’ll come back for our stuff later.”

  Zana nodded and the three of them backed away, using the cluster of trees to shield them from the shooter’s view. As soon as they were twenty feet away, they took off as fast as they could through the trees.

  Christina led the way, with Zana behind her, holding tightly onto her own wounded arm. Trent followed last, periodically checking behind them to see if he could spot the shooter in pursuit.

  They were moving at a quick clip, dodging trees and jumping over fallen branches. Trent still couldn’t see or hear anyone following them, but his instincts told him there was still someone hunting them.

  “Who the hell would be trying to kill us up here?” Trent said.

  If Christina heard him, she did not answer.

  They came to a part of the forest where the trees were even closer together than usual. They could either go off to the left, where the woods were not as dense and they would be able to move faster, or they could go straight through and make worse time, but be better shielded.

  Trent pointed into the crowded trees.

  “This way,” he said.

  Christina looked at him for only a split second before pushing her way into the trees. Zana and Trent followed as closely behind her as they could.

  Their progress was slow, but he knew that whoever was chasing them would be slowed down even more since they were holding a high-powered crossbow. Trent also figured that it would be next to impossible for the man to get a clean shot off with the all the trees in the way.

  After another ten minutes of winding through the woods as fast as they could, they emerged into a snowy clearing and saw a trail on the opposite side of the clearing that led into the forest. Without stopping, the three of them crossed the clearing and broke out at a full run along the path.

  Trent’s only concern was that their would-be killer would also be able to move quickly, once he made it to the path.

  In mid-stride, Trent had an idea.

  While he continued to run, he pulled out the length of paracord Zana had given him at the beginning of their trip. He waited until they passed a particularly narrow part of the trail, then he knelt down and quickly wrapped one end of the cord around a sapling. He took the other end and tied it to a thicker tree on the other side of the path. The taught cord was about four inches off the ground, and he hastily piled some leaves on top of it so it wouldn’t be as noticeable.

  It wasn’t perfect, but he was counting on the fact that the man would be running at top speed and not paying sufficient attention to the ground.

  Trent started running again and caught up with the women shortly.

 
“Did you just tie my paracord belt to a tree back there?” Zana said, seemingly annoyed.

  Trent kept her moving with a light touch of his hand on the small of her back.

  “If it works, we can go back and get it. If not, I’ll buy you a new one as soon as we’re in a store somewhere.”

  Zana didn’t respond, but turned her attention back to the path and started running even faster, her right arm hanging from her side. All Trent could hear was the muffled pounding of their feet slapping against the snow-laden ground.

  A minute later, he heard a man cursing loudly, presumably from having tripped over the impromptu trap Trent had set.

  As soon as he heard the man’s voice, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, and he felt the dark spirit inside him threaten to take over his mind. He held the spirit at bay, but a part of him wanted to give in so that he would find the man and beat the life out of him for hurting Zana.

  Suddenly, the path dwindled to nothing, and the trees became so thick that the three of them could barely move. They squeezed between spruces and pines and crawled over and under rotted tree trunks.

  Their pace slowed to a slow walk, but there was no sign of their pursuer. Suddenly, the snow-covered forest seemed to change from of crisp white snow covering the green underneath it, to a monochromatic landscape, where everything was gray and misty. The woods took on a dream-like quality, but Trent knew that this was no hallucination. He watched as Christina made a sharp left turn and then a right, and another right.

  “What the hell are you doing?” he said.

  As the words left his mouth, he saw the back of a short man, who had appeared out of nowhere, walking only a few feet in front of Christina. Trent guessed by the man’s leathery skin color, his long, silver-gray hair, and the way he effortlessly flowed through the forest that he was a native Alaskan.

  Christina didn’t say anything.

  She followed the man, and Trent and Zana followed her.

  Even though Trent possessed a phenomenal and trained sense of direction, he couldn’t understand how they were walking in what appeared to be circles, while somehow also progressing forward and never encountering the same tree twice.

  The farther they went, the more silent the forest became until it was if they were pushing their way through a vacuum in space. Snow still fell, but even it seemed to have slowed its descent into the gray forest.

  At any moment, Trent fully expected their pursuer to burst through the trees and finish the job he had started back at their camp.

  But he did not.

  Instead, Christina turned to Trent and Zana and spoke very quietly.

  “Clear your minds and follow me. We’re going to be okay now. The Shaman’s finally found us.”

  Chapter 31

  I TOLD YOU not to shoot. Now, they know we’re here, and they’re gonna run.

  “That’s what I’m counting on,” the Hunter said in a whisper.

  The Hunter kept his eyes on the camp. He saw Walker step out from behind the cover and wave his hands in the air.

  Half a second later, the arrow left his crossbow, making a whirring noise as it cut through the air. Walker stepped back faster than should have been possible, even though the arrow wasn’t meant to hit him anyway.

  Goddammit, boy. You’re a disgrace to hunters.

  “I missed on purpose, old man. You want to see where they’re going? Fine. I’m just making sure they get there quicker. Then I’m going to settle my score with them, get the hell out of this wretched town, and go back to Vegas, where I belong.”

  His father’s voice was silent as the Hunter watched Trent and the two women flee into the woods.

  “There they go.”

  The Hunter picked up his gear and followed after them.

  He felt the weight of his rifle strapped across his back and let himself dream for a split second about pulling it out and simply blowing a hole in Walker’s head, but he knew it would be too loud and draw unwanted attention from the townspeople. Gunfire was commonplace in Alaska, but after they realized that Christina and her two strange friends were dead, he didn’t want anyone putting two and two together.

  The Hunter passed the campsite that had been hastily abandoned and followed their trail. With the snow ankle-deep on the ground, at least that was no problem.

  Trent and his party were moving as fast as they could, while the Hunter made sure that he was checking his flanks to make sure they weren’t trying to double back on him.

  The trail remained clear, and he was making good time, but they were out of sight at this point, and the Hunter decided to speed up his pursuit.

  He checked to his left and felt his foot snag on something just as the trail narrowed. With the weight of his gear putting him off-balance, he fell forward, holding the crossbow out to his side and away from him to make sure he didn’t skewer himself on the way down.

  His already-swollen head hit a tree and his knee was wrenched violently—enough to make him scream in pain.

  Keep it quiet, boy! Now they know how far away you are.

  The Hunter ignored his father’s voice and made it back to his feet. He got his gear situated correctly and checked the crossbow for damage. He found none.

  He knelt down and touched the paracord stretched across the trail.

  “Fucker,” he said as he turned around and limped along, following the trail again.

  As he followed their trail, he allowed himself to fantasize about his upcoming kills. First he would finish Zana and then Christina. He wanted Walker to see them die. Then he would make Walker die so slowly that it would be like sipping a fine brandy.

  Pay attention and stop daydreaming.

  The Hunter made his way more quickly with each step, as the spirit of his father began to heal him, and the pain in his leg subsided.

  Soon the trees started to crowd him in, and it became more difficult to follow their trail. At one point, their footsteps led into the densest forest the Hunter had ever seen. He wasn’t even sure he could fit between the trees with his bow and his gear in tow, but he started in after them anyway.

  After only a few feet into the woods, the Hunter felt a foreign emotion well up inside of him. It was fear, but it wasn’t coming from him. It was coming from his father.

  This place isn’t natural. It’s not meant for men.

  “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a bunch of trees?” the Hunter said with a laugh.

  The Hunter forced his way onward. He had to squeeze sideways between trees, and his instincts warned him that he was pinning himself down—making himself an easy target. Then again, if he couldn’t see anyone, they probably couldn’t see him either.

  He followed Walker’s footprints as best he could, but they were going in circles, leading the Hunter back to where he had just been—or so he initially thought. When he examined the trees, they were all different, as was the ground. He didn’t understand what was happening, and soon, he, the great Hunter, was completely lost.

  I told you this ain’t no normal woods. This is shaman territory. And you’re walking around the in-between spaces of the world. If we backtrack now, we might be able to get out of here still.

  “Are you telling me to quit a hunt?” he said through gritted teeth. “You just told me that you wanted to follow them. So, that’s what I’m doing.”

  His father’s voice was silent.

  The Hunter held his crossbow up, tight against his chest, and put his eye to his low-powered scope.

  He scanned the tangled forest ahead of him slowly, starting thirty degrees to his left and sweeping until he’d reached thirty degrees to his right.

  Despite the finely tuned technology of the scope, he couldn’t see a damn thing. Walker and the rest could be hiding behind trees, but if they were walking, the scope should have picked up something.

  For all intents, they had disappeared.

  “We keep moving forward. I’m going to find them.”

  Go back the way you came, and we can wa
it for them outside these woods. They gotta come out eventually, and when they do, we can be waiting for them.

  The Hunter stopped and looked back the way he had come. All he could see in every direction were the dense trees and a morning fog that had settled in, further diminishing his range of vision. His father was probably right about back tracking and getting out of this place where the laws of physics didn’t seem to apply. But the Hunter hadn’t come this far to stop this easily. He would follow them until either they were dead or he was dead.

  As long as they kept leaving a trail, he could keep following it.

  With a heavy exhale, the Hunter continued on, using all of his concentration to follow the prints in the snow, even though they sometimes overlapped and crossed over one another. Without a doubt, this was the hardest trail he had ever followed, and he found that he did better when he let his instincts guide him and didn’t overthink things too much.

  I hope you get what you deserve for taking us into this damned place.

  The Hunter shrugged and ignored his father’s voice once again, staying focused on each footprint and broken branch he could find—each step bringing him closer to finding out where the hell Walker and his women were going in this God-forsaken forest.

  Chapter 32

  WITH EACH STEP, Trent and Zana followed Christina and the shaman deeper and deeper into the mysterious, ghostly still forest. At one point, Trent tried to speak—to say something to Christina, but she held her hand up, signaling him to stay quiet.

  He held onto his questions—trusting in Christina and the man she called only the Shaman as they snaked their way through narrow spaces and between trees like they were maneuvering through a supernatural maze.

  The forest defied all logic, and even with his superior sense of direction, Trent remained lost with no idea which way was north.

  They circled back several times on what should have been the same set of trees only to find new landmarks they had never before passed.

  As they continued along as quickly as possible, Trent made sure to keep Zana in front of him and to not let go of her hand. He looked down at his watch, but the hand hadn’t moved since the last time he checked it several minutes ago. Since they had entered the eerie woods, he had been silently counting to himself, ticking away the seconds and minutes in his mind. According to his internal clock, they had been in the still forest for at least twenty minutes.