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. Stephen, who had been hired as the hunters’ guide, 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. Still, when it comes to hunting, sometimes all you had to go on 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. To be honest, Stephen needed to make a little extra money whenever possible. 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 being 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. They had night vision binoculars, laser equipped range finders, fire starter kits, water purification tubes, hydration packs strapped to their bodies and GPS positioning systems, 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 or 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 farther into the forest while thinking about the time when he was a boy and had been taught to walk slowly and silently in the woods of the Ojibwe Bad River Reservation. 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 to the change he intended when the cold temperature of the breeze registered in his brain and a warning bell 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, understanding something was awry. One by one they began to look uneasily at each other, keeping quiet until 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. 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. 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, indicating 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, hoping 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 indication that anything had ever been there. 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 sow with cubs versus a lone boar.
Confused, but
satisfied that the area was 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…”
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. 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 man, was hovering nearly twenty feet off the ground. It wasn’t large, and in fact it appeared horribly emaciated 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, standing 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.
The hunters followed Stephen’s gaze upward. One of the men screamed in surprise at the horrid sight as they all hastily switched their rifle’s safeties to the “fire” position and shouted for Stephen to run.
Stephen recognized the creature from the stories told around the fire by his tribe’s elders and was too shocked and frightened to move. Eyes wide and with the breath locked in his chest, he just stood there with his .44 Smith aimed at the strange figure’s head.
Slowly the figure looked away from Stephen, turning its head to look around the forest, before returning its cold unearthly glare back onto the man below it. The thing reached behind its back and a bow appeared in one hand as its eye sockets suddenly began to glow with an eerie red light. Fear exploded through Stephen, erupting as a scream igniting his body into action. He fired his weapon, over and over as he sent all six rounds toward the figure. Each bullet exploded with a puff of smoke, or perhaps a plume of dust, as it burst through the figure’s chest, but the only response from the figure was to drop a few feet in the air each time its body was wrenched by a bullet’s impact. It did not fall all the way to the ground. Instead, the desiccated head lifted its glare to Stephen, the eye sockets now glowing even brighter with that eerie red incandescence. It was now close enough for Stephen to see the details of the thing’s dead, featureless face shift into a mask of rage, as the thing opened its mouth to let out an inhuman and unearthly sound.
The sound of the revolver clicking in dry fire in his hand finally penetrated Stephen’s fear addled brain and he instantly turned and ran. The figure did not pursue, instead it simply watched as Stephen sprinted back to toward his clients, as all four of them hurried back into the protection of the forest. The figure hovered patiently until the quartet had completely disappeared into the trees. Then it turned and beckoned with the arm holding the bow to something behind it. Out of the shadows two more figures sprinted forward, each a creature similar to the one hovering, and were on the chase after the hunters and their guide.
Chapter 2
“What the hell was that?!” one hunter screamed, as they ran back toward the main road where their truck awaited them.
Stephen, ignored the man and seemed to ramble as he ran, “It marked me! It marked me!”
“What?!” a client asked.
“The Spirit marked me!” Steven gasped.
“Spirit? You mean, a spirit like a ghost?!”
Stephen’s thoughts were jumbled and his mind fought to remember everything he had been taught about the thing he had seen.
“Damn it!” Another hunter cursed, “I can’t see the path we came in on!” He shouted to Stephen, “Which way?!”
Stephen was too busy trying to remember how to save himself to answer the man, but then the answers came to him and he just stopped running and lowered his head. The hunters initially ran past him for several yards before they hurried back and urged him to keep moving.
Stephen’s whole body deflated as he just shook his head as he fished into his pockets for more bullets, “I just remembered everything about this thing,” he said sadly, but with a determined and resolute quality to his voice. Quickly he shoved six more rounds into the .44 and then reached back into his pocket and to pull out the keys to his truck.
“Listen guys,” his voice regained the confidence of the professional outfitter that he was, “I’m not going to make it…”
“C’mon we don’t have time for this!” one hunter insisted, but Stephen pushed the truck keys into the man’s hand.
“You need to get back to town. You’ll be safe there, but as long as you stay in the forest you are fair game. Go.”
“We can’t…”
“You want to die, too?!” Stephen shouted angrily at the hunter before he stopped, took a breath and then pleaded, “Please, this is my final wish. Let me save your lives.”
None of the hunters spoke and Stephen nodded his head, “Good. You all have your GPS and the road is due north from here. You’ll come out of the trees on the road and be able to find the truck from there. Got it?”
All three heads nodded gravely when Stephen added, “Remember the stream we passed on the way here? If anything comes after you, then get across the stream. It won’t stop it, but it will have to find another way around the water and that should give you the time you need to get to the road.”
“Stream?” one asked.
“Just go. Run as fast as you can and save yourselves,”
Something not quite human burst out of the shadows so quickly that its motion was blurred as it ran to strike Stephen in the back with what looked like club made from a tree branch. Stephen fell forward. One of the hunters yelped, jumped back and fired directly into the thing. Dust erupted in a cloud where the bullet had struck it, and the thing fell back as the force of the bullet knocked it away. All eyes were on the thing as it rolled on the ground in apparent pain.
“Nice shot!” Stephen groaned as he rose to his feet, “Now run!”
The three hunters did as they were told and ran off into the trees as Stephen whirled to face the thing as it slowly raised itself from the forest’s floor. Another blur ran past the first and tackled Stephen driving both of them to the ground. This figure had a club as well and, as their tumble ended with the thing on top of Stephen, it raised the makeshift club over its withered skull of a head and shrieked as it tried to smash Stephen’s head into pulp. Stephen moved faster, pushing his revolver into the thing’s chest and shooting twice, knocking it away from his body. The first creature rose to its feet and, after seeing its partner blown back and away, attacked. This time Stephen was ready for it and ducked under the swinging club, allowing the force behind the swing to drive it off balance. Stephen lunged forward and touched the barrel of his revolver to the thing’s head as he pulled the trigger. The creature’s head blew apart in a cloud of dust and it dropped limply to the ground dead.
Stephen looked down, eyes wide in surprise at what he had done. The legends all said that it was impossible to kill these things
, but those legends were from a time before guns, not to mention hand cannons like the .44 Magnum he carried. The other figure looked at its companion with those unholy glowing red eyes and seemed every bit as surprised as Stephen at the results. Stephen didn’t waste a second to swing the barrel of his Smith toward the second thing. The creature hesitated and Stephen actually felt a smile cross his lips as he took the time to pull back the hammer of his weapon.
Then there was a “twanging” sound, followed by a hiss in the air before something struck Stephen squarely in the chest, staggering him back from the impact. Stephen looked down at himself and expected the worst, but everything seemed normal. There was no tear in his clothing or evidence of a wound. He was about to continue the fight when the pain began and a red smear spread over his shirt as blood flowed from his body and saturated the fabric. Stephen reached for his chest and groaned with pain as his hand touched something... something he couldn’t see, but was still very much lodged in his chest. His head swirled not only from the pain, but also from an overwhelming vertigo that buckled his knees and sent him sprawling to the ground.
In the next moment Stephen found himself on his back as he looked up at the portions of the sky he could see through the treetops. The floating thing he had initially seen eased silently into his view as it looked down on him. Stephen’s mind was clear and he knew the legends. He understood what it was he had been struck with and fear caused a shudder to pass through him at what was to follow. He had managed to maintain his grip on the gun and, weakly, he tried to raise it to his head. He had to end it before these things could defile him, but the weight of his revolver seemed to be more than he could lift from the forest’s floor. Stephen tried to cry out in desperation, but no sound came from his throat as his thoughts swirled and sleep threatened to overwhelm him.
There was a shift of the leaves next to him as the two other creatures moved into his view. They stood over him and looked down in him, their dark eye sockets were empty but Stephen could still feel them piercing straight into his soul. Stephen was surprised to see that the one figure whose head he had more or less blown off had been restored and now appeared unscathed. He let out an ironic chuckle, as he realized the legends about the things being indestructible had proven true.
Dark Spirits of the Forest Page 1