Haven

by Vincent E. Sweeney

  “Son, I must ask…” Hedrick began. “Why in the world aren’t you going with them?”

  This produced an unsure shrug from the boy. “I haven’t had so much faith in the Commander’s judgment lately,” Dylan said numbly. He then released a scorned expression on his face and looked away from the window.

  Governor Hedrick nodded. “This has been a trying time for us all.” He paused, awkwardly searching for what he wanted to say. “Michael is just doing what he believes is best,” he reassured.

  “And we’re doing what we believe is best,” Dylan concluded. He glanced at the Governor’s face - seeking to read any response.

  “Yes,” he said, forcing a smile. “Yes, we are.”

  Dylan raised a hand to wipe the corner of his nose, and then folded his arms across his chest.

  From his window above, Governor Hedrick watched the people disembark, as tears rolled down his cheeks.

  As the last of the rebels departed through the city gates, Michael turned to the side and helped a family finish loading their small cart. Kirin saw an opportunity, and she ran up to Stephen’s side.

  “Stephen,” she began.

  “Oh! Hi, Kirin,” Stephen said, surprised to see her approach.

  “I was just wondering, umm…” she suddenly froze in panic. She had only wanted to speak with him. She did not have a topic in mind. “Umm…” she stammered.

  Stephen looked into her eyes. He was dying to speak with her.

  “How’s your knee?” she blurted out, and quickly blushed.

  Stephen smiled. “It’s healed up pretty nicely now. You guys did a very good job on it.”

  “Oh, good,” Kirin continued. “Umm...” she mumbled, knowing she was stuck again.

  “I like your hair,” Stephen suddenly uttered.

  Kirin looked up at him.

  He winced at his blurb. What a dumb thing to say!

  “Thank you,” she said in a sweet voice, as she smiled brightly. The kind words had alleviated her apprehension.

  Stephen smiled back. “You’re welcome,” he said, genuinely - grateful that the complement had come across so well.

  “I…” she continued. “I’m sorry about your loss.”

  Stephen’s mind quickly changed course, and his smile faded. “Thank you,” he replied. This was all he could say.

  Kirin bit her lower lip. Why had she said that? That was an awkward thing to bring up, no matter how good the intentions. She sighed at her own fumble.

  “But I’m glad that you’re still here,” Stephen returned, smiling tenderly.

  Kirin smiled too. She then felt a sudden need to look behind her and saw her father, following right behind them. She quickly bowed her head and fell a few steps back.

  Stephen turned to see what had happened. His eyes met with Michael’s, and he hurriedly resumed his forward gaze.

  Michael said nothing. He was unsure whether or not he liked what he had seen.

  The rebels’ encampment spread out over two hundred meters in diameter. The campground was nestled in a clearing among the dense forest, at the bottom of a deep valley. Guards had been posted around the perimeter to keep an overnight vigil. The encampment was speckled throughout with the bright glow of cooking fires. Over a hundred makeshift tents had been erected from branches and waterproof sheets. They were all positioned outside of an area in the middle of the campsite, where the leaders of the rebellion sat on benches made from fallen logs. The meeting concerned their plans for the future.

  Stephen stood in the center of this group of men with Michael close beside him. Each of the men in the crowd would state their opinions in turn, and then Stephen would discuss the possibilities aloud with Michael, until a decision could be reached that the majority favored. At the moment, the discussion was centered on how a permanent lodging would be arranged.

  “Let us assume that we‘ll need a fortified city of some kind to defend ourselves against attack, “ said one man leaning on a stick. “We cannot predict for certain what enemies we may face in the near future, and we must therefore plan against the fiercest attack possible, to keep from being taken by lack of preparation.”

  The group mumbled amongst themselves and nodded in agreement. Michael leaned to Stephen’s ear and told him the man’s name.

  “That’s a good point, Mr. Aaron,” said Stephen. “We will need a strategically wise location to make home. Perhaps a plot of land on top of a hill, to give the advantage of higher ground?”

  At this, the men resumed their affirmative nodding and mumbling. Stephen was pleased with his own good thinking.

  “But wait,” spoke out a bearded man in the back, “if we make lodging on top of a hill, we won’t be near a lake or stream. If we’re attacked and forced to take refuge in the fort, we’ll be cut off from a water supply for as long as the fight lasts. And that could be months for all we know.”

  The crowd then began to stir with conversation.

  Stephen thought for a moment. “That’s true sir,” he began. “But, we could first dig a well for ourselves inside the fort and let it fill with rainwater, as well as all the water we can bring in by bucket or pump. We could then construct a large, fan-shaped funnel leading to the pit to collect rainwater all the time. Then we would be sustained, no matter how long a battle would last.”

  At this, ahs of approval and satisfaction rose up from the people as Michael leaned to Stephen’s ear. “Very smart thinking, son,” he noted. “Come up with that by yourself, did you?”

  “No,” he replied. “People used to do the same thing back on Earth when drought came into a land,” he replied. “History always bored me to tears, but it was my best subject.”

  “Ha-ha,” Michael retorted. “I’m glad one of us paid attention in class.”

  Stephen smiled and looked to the blackening sky overhead. He returned his attention to the crowd.

  “It’s late, my friends,” he announced. “We have achieved much this day, and I think we have earned a good night’s rest for ourselves. Tomorrow, we will search the area for a hillside on which to build our shelter. In the meantime, goodnight to you all, and don’t forget to relieve your partners at their watch posts in a few hours.”

  The crowd of men dispersed over the next few minutes, and Michael and Stephen parted to their respective tents. On the way to his tent, Stephen noticed the light from the moon above was momentarily blocked by what was to be the first of hundreds of dark storm clouds to pass during the night.

  “Stephen, are you there?” came a rasped, crackling voice over the personal transmitter in Stephen’s tent. He reached over for it lazily in the darkness and put it to his mouth.

  “Carlisse here...” he said.

  “This is Terrence. You wanted me to wake you when it was your turn to take over?”

  Stephen rubbed his eyes. “Yeah, thanks. Give me a few minutes to get over there.”

  “Okay,” came Terrence’ reply. “I’ll be waiting.”

  Stephen gathered up his watch, field-light and personal transmitter (all of which he strapped onto his utility belt) and rolled out of his tent, sleepily. The sky was entirely black now, and Stephen had to use his field light to find his way through the campground. Some fires still had a few glowing embers, but not enough to light his path. Stephen then became aware of the shine from several other field lights, as more men were awakened to take their watch-duty.

  Stephen raised his transmitter to his mouth. “Stephen to Michael, you awake yet? Over.”

  Static hissed quietly for a moment and Stephen began to look around for Terrence.

  “Yeah, Stephen,” Michael replied. “What’s up? Over.”

  “Clouds are making a dark sky. Think it’s going to rain on us tonight? Over.”

  The static sounded again for a moment. Stephen stopped at the edge of the campground where Terrence had been posted, and looked into the woods. The moonlight returned briefly to reveal a shadowy section of forest ahead, in which Stephen did not spot Terrence anywhere. />
  “Hard to say…” Michael replied. “Can’t tell how dark the clouds are. It could rain tonight, or it could pass until tomorrow. Over.”

  Stephen looked down and saw Terrence’s rifle pack sitting on the ground.

  “I hear you. Looks like my previous guard just left his pack for me to pick up. From now on, let’s tell the men to wait for their replacements to arrive on sight before they leave. Over,” Stephen said.

  The static returned and was soon replaced by Michael’s voice. “Affirmative on that, Stephen. Going to start my watch now. Over and out.”

  Stephen nodded as he picked up the rifle-pack and began strapping it onto his own back. “Out,” he replied. As Stephen began fastening the straps, he noticed that the cords had been pulled out of their sliders, as though Terrence had thrown the pack off of his back. He made a mental note to remind Terrence of the importance of taking care of their limited gear the next time he encountered him.

  Tiredly, Stephen yawned and stood upright to begin his watch of the forty-meter section of campground he was designated. A crisp wind rustled the leaves in the forest ahead, and the night then resumed its normal activities. Nocturnal birds chirped and called to one another in the darkness, and insects droned over the noise of the wind flowing throughout the campground.

  Stephen looked upwards at the sky again. He took a relaxed stance as he began pacing back and forth over his area. He did not see the large, gray eyes of the creature watching him from within the woods ahead.

  4

  The night wind moaned hauntingly as it groped the landscape, rushing through trees and valleys. The clouds in the sky parted frequently to reveal moonlight just long enough for a person to see shadows cast behind trees and in dips, where entities hid themselves from detection by predators, and some by prey.

  Stephen stared directly ahead into the forest - his gaze never shifting from a particular uprooted stump. The stump itself had a shape unusual enough to attract attention, in that its twisting roots were unusually thin for such a thick-based tree. However, it was Stephen’s suspicion of a presence behind the stump that held his focus at the moment. He had noticed the stump earlier but gave it little attention until when, as one ray of moonlight happened to strike it in time, Stephen had caught a glimpse of movement among the roots, but he was confident that it was merely a rodent or other small animal. Stephen hoped it would return for him to see more of it.

  Thus far, the night had passed by with little event. One of the watchmen had reported some movement in the brush a couple of hours earlier, but it was passed off as only a curious herbivore - most likely attracted by the glow of the campfires. The disturbance had disappeared and all was calm again. Some of the men had grown uneasy at this report and were trigger-ready for an attack, but they returned to their normal, drowsy stances after a few moments of the familiar silence - silence other than the sound of the wind’s distorted moaning.

  Stephen looked at his watch and realized that his guard shift was nearly over, although dawn was still several hours away. He decided that he would go ahead and raise Terrence on the transmitter to inform him that it would soon be time for him to return to the guard-post. He took his attention off the dead stump. It had been almost half an hour since he had noticed any movement anyway. Stephen was somewhat surprised at how much time he had spent focused on something as trivial as a tree stump in order to ward off boredom. He shrugged as he raised the transmitter to his lips.

  “Stephen to Terrence…” he said.

  Only static sounded from the transmitter’s tiny speaker. Stephen knew that there was sometimes a delay between messages being sent and received, and also that Terrence would take some time to wake up and locate his own transmitter in the tent. He waited patiently, returning his view to the stump whenever the moonlight would shine.

  Another moment passed by and there was still no reply from Terrence.

  “Terrence, this is Stephen. It’s time to take your shift, over,” he spoke firmly.

  As another moment of silence passed by, the moon shone through the clouds and Stephen saw the twisted stump again, although this time, something was different about it. Its position did not look the same as it had earlier. Stephen looked at his feet and tried to remember if he had moved from his spot, possibly causing the change in view. But he could not recall doing so. This slight puzzlement gave way to annoyance, and he raised the transmitter to his mouth again.

  “Terrence, wake up. Time to take your shift. Over!” he was growing tired and felt no desire to be kept waiting. He then thought Terrence’s transmitter might have just been turned off, so he decided to page him. Stephen waited for the moonlight to return, and he located the paging button on his own device. He pressed it and waited to hear a faint beeping from inside Terrence’s tent, behind him in the campground.

  A sudden, sharp noise caused Stephen to jump, and he realized it was the transmitter paging sound, only it was much too close to be coming from Terrence’s tent. Stephen looked up and realized the high-pitched noise was emanating from somewhere in the woods nearby. He stood dazed for a moment, baffled by what was happening. He could not fathom why Terrence’s transmitter would be in the woods, unless perhaps it had fallen out of his pocket as he was patrolling. Confident this was the case, and angry with Terrence for being so careless, Stephen followed the insistent beeping noise across the edge of the campground to a spot where the woods met the clearing.

  The sound was behind the bushes. He grew annoyed as he pictured Terrence relieving himself behind a shrub and letting the transmitter fall right out of his pocket. Stephen began to grumble under his breath. He stepped through the bushes, pushing them aside as best he could. He knew he was making much noise as he stepped on the dry twigs and fallen limbs, but he did not really care. Stephen looked to his right, at the spot in the woods where the stump had been, and saw that is was still there - unmoved since the last time he had looked at it.

  He started to push aside the bush in front of him. The moonlight suddenly disappeared and he was left in darkness - his foot holding down the bottom of the bush. With as little movement as possible, Stephen reached down for his field-light. Instantly, he was disappointed when he saw that the beam of light was dim and weak. He had left it on in his pocket. Rather than trying to shake the lamp back into working order, he turned it off and decided to wait for the moonlight to return again. Stephen clipped the light back on his belt. He took another step forward through the bush, to give his stiff leg a rest.

  A moment passed by and the moon had not shown itself. Growing concerned from his vulnerable position, Stephen contemplated walking back in the darkness as best he could, despite the incessant call of the transmitter in the woods. Just as he began to turn and leave, the darkness around him began to lighten and he knew the moon would be returning soon. Stephen then saw the trees and shrubs around him very distinctly as the moon shone through in full glory.

  Stephen turned around and found himself staring into Terrence’s face and he screamed from the sudden presence near him. It was then that Stephen realized the face before him was upside down and had no eyes. He screamed again and fell backwards, putting the horror before him into broad view.

  Terrence’s bloody arms were twisted completely backwards as well as his legs. His intestines lay in a pile at the base of the long spear on which he had been mounted. Stephen turned to flee in full terror and he immediately remembered the same sensation when he had discovered Mandel in a similar fashion.

  Stephen’s panic was severe and, as a result, he fell clumsily over the bushes he had trampled down earlier, landing on his face. Stephen turned his body to get up, and saw the small clearing where the odd-shaped stump was resting. Terror seized him when he saw the stump rise on a pair of twisting legs. These legs were the base of creature standing upright, but hunched over, and watching Stephen’s struggle with complete attention.

  Horrified, Stephen screamed at the top of his lungs and darted out of the bushes. He fumbled with th
e holster of his gun and finally drew it out just as he exited the woods. He turned quickly and stood ready to fire upon anything that moved. Stephen’s transmitter then began to crackle with life.

  “Stephen, are you there? What’s happening? Stephen!” came Michael’s urgent voice.

  Stephen prepared to pick up his transmitter and reply, when a sudden gust of wind shook the trees all around. He began to fire wildly into the forest as he backed further into the campground. He stopped when he realized he was out of immediate danger. He then became aware that the encampment behind him was stirring with people who had been awakened in a panic. He reached down to his transmitter.

  “Michael, Terrence is dead!” he shouted. “Get everyone awake and out here with a weapon. I’ve got affirmative contact with those creatures!”

  Only static sounded for a moment, and Stephen’s eyes franticly darted about the woods ahead. He then began to wonder if Michael had been killed, but his mind was finally put to ease when the delayed message came.

  “Affirmative on that contact, Stephen,” Michael replied calmly. “I’ve got multiple reports of movement in the woods, over.”

  The next sound Stephen heard was that of Michael’s air horn blasting over the campground. The echo resounded like an eagle’s screech across the sleeping field. Soon, men came running to the campground perimeter and stood by Stephen with clubs and knives in hand, ready to explode into combat at the next move.

  “What have we got?” asked one man wielding a long survival knife.

  “I saw one of them in the woods just now,” Stephen replied. “And they’ve already killed one man.”

  “Good Lord…” the man mumbled along with several others nearby. “Do you know how many there are?”

  Stephen shook his head as he watched the forest. “No, I just saw the one, and it’s too dark to spot anything else in there now.”