The Truth Circle

by Cameron Ayers

  “It wasn’t a suggestion,” Ken hissed, his voice low and intimidating. “Unless you want to end up like Wade, get your ass in gear … now!”

  Gaby didn’t bat an eye.

  “Do … your … worst,” she challenged.

  A conflagration erupted in Ken’s eyes, projecting liquid hatred as he raised Gaby up by the lapels and threw her to the ground like a rag doll. She landed flat on her back in a drying mud puddle, which absorbed some of the impact, but still left her breathless.

  Gaby raised her head fuzzily and saw guttural Ken pull out the penknife and wave it in front of her, its blade glinting ominously in the dimming light. Her eyes went wide in fright, and she tried scooting backward in the mud.

  “I should have done this days ago,” he intoned as he approached, savoring the fear in Gaby’s eyes.

  Just as he was about to launch himself at her, Beverly jumped between them.

  “Stop it!” she cried, waving her blackened left arm in the air to ward guttural Ken away.

  He stopped in his tracks, confused and repulsed by the necrotic limb dangling inches from his face.

  “Out of the way, you old bitch!” he bellowed.

  In spite of his hollering, Gaby noticed that he made no move against the older woman. Even in this state, he was still afraid of being infected.

  “We don’t have time for this!” she shouted back at him. “Can’t you hear them?”

  Gaby listened intently. In the distance, she heard the faint sound of thousands of voices chirping in unison. The iku were awake.

  The murderous rage in Ken’s eyes slowly cooled. He looked from Gaby to the setting sun and back again, seemingly unable to choose between ending her life or safeguarding his own.

  “If you want to live, then you need to make a fire ... now,” Beverly insisted, trying to block Ken’s view of Gaby to make the choice easier.

  Ken seethed, his body shaking and his lower lip trembling with rage. He balled up his left fist and punched the nearest tree hard enough to break his knuckles. If he felt any pain, his face didn’t betray it. Ken spat at Gaby’s feet and walked away without a word.

  Beverly hurriedly gathered the remaining cans from the maple tree’s hollow and then turned to face Gaby, tears in her eyes.

  “I begged you not to look in there,” she said, shivering. “I was trying to protect you.”

  “I know,” Gaby said as she slowly picked herself up. “But all you did was delay the inevitable. I was never going to trust Ken, and he was never going to accept anything other than total fealty. This would have happened sooner or later.”

  “Move it, Beverly!” Ken bellowed in the distance. “Unless you’d prefer to die out here with her!”

  “I’m sorry, Gaby. I tried my best,” Beverly apologized as she turned and hurried back to the campsite, eventually disappearing in the lengthening shadows.

  Gaby wiped the mud from her raven locks and tried to steady her nerves as she waited for the end to come. She watched as the horizon consumed the sun, bit by bit. Only a narrow crescent of light remained as the shadows deepened with each passing minute.

  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm her mind. Every instinct she possessed screamed at Gaby to run, but she knew it was futile. The iku were too fast and numerous to escape. She even started to rationalize this as one final act of defiance. She had run from her parents and their creepy traditions after college. She ran from her friends when they pressured her to leave her abusive boyfriend. And she’d come here for the express purpose of running from him. No more running, Gaby told herself, wiping away a tear. She just prayed that the iku would make her death quick.

  The chirping was getting louder as the shadows slowly encroached. Gaby was thinking of all the things she would never get to do when a flash of light in the distance caught her eye. It projected upward, and reminded her of the mysterious pillar of light she’d seen on the top of the southern ridge two nights ago, right before the iku arrived. But while the original one was solid white and shot 40 feet up in the air, this one produced a yellowish light and was far weaker, diffusing after about 15 feet. Maybe the light and the iku were connected somehow. The light suddenly shifted and was now pointing parallel to the ground, flickering as it swayed to and fro. It took Gaby several seconds to realize it was a flashlight.

  “Hello?” she called out uncertainly. The light paused and turned in her general direction.

  “Hey! Hey, over here!” Gaby shouted, waving her arms and bouncing up and down to draw attention to herself. She could hear footfalls as the light moved closer. When the flashlight was 15 feet away, the footfalls stopped and the beam trained directly on her face.

  “Gaby?” came a voice behind the flashlight. Gaby cocked an eyebrow. The voice sounded almost like …

  The beam of light suddenly spun the opposite direction as her rescuer trained the light on his own face. It was Lamar, looking sweaty and exhausted. He was carrying the flashlight in his right hand and a spear in the other.

  “Lamar?” she called out, uncertain whether to trust her own eyes. He nodded and smiled. “Lamar!” Gaby exclaimed.

  He offered up his fist for a bump, remembering all too well Gaby’s phobia about others touching her. But she was so overjoyed to see a friendly face again that she swept his hand aside and pulled him in close for a hug. It felt strange — alien, somehow — and yet comforting at the same time, even as her nostrils got their first good whiff of Lamar’s rank body odor.

  “It’s me,” Lamar said stiffly, unprepared for her outsized reaction. He cautiously put a sweaty hand on her back as she held him.

  Gaby heard footfalls behind them.

  “And me!” Coop said as he emerged from the shadows, resting his spear on his shoulder.

  “Coop, too?” Gaby exclaimed, tears of happiness rolling down her cheeks as she hurriedly wrapped her free arm around him. She clutched them both fiercely, basking in the warmth of their embrace and giving silent thanks for this unexpected reunion.

  “I’m so sorry about this morning,” she said after a few moments. “You two were right about Ken and Beverly. I … I should have trusted …”

  Gaby stopped midsentence and broke the group hug, her face a mask of confusion.

  “Wait, why did you two come back? Especially now,” she asked, motioning to the setting sun.

  “Lamar thinks he can fix everything … somehow,” Coop explained, his tone betraying lingering doubts. “I wanted to cut and run. And for about 15 minutes, I did. But he’s one persuasive SOB, so here I am,” he added with an uncertain grin.

  Gaby began to wonder who exactly was rescuing who here.

  “Ken and Beverly have turned against us and won’t open the teepee door for anybody. You have a plan for fixing that?”

  “Nope,” Lamar admitted with a casualness that confounded Gaby. “But we’ll figure something out.”

  “After all,” Coop said, “we’re the Three Mouseketeers.”

  He raised his arm skyward as though he were holding an invisible sword.

  “All for mice …” he began.

  Lamar raised his arm as well. Both looked to Gaby, waiting for her to join in.

  “And mice ... for all?” Gaby finished doubtfully, raising her arm reluctantly after several seconds. Their joyous reunion was turning more farcical by the moment.

  The sound of the iku drawing closer provided a curt reminder of the trio’s present predicament.

  “Uhm, maybe we should catch up later,” Lamar said, drawing fervent nods from the others.

  The group sprinted back to the campsite. The sun had already slipped behind the western skyline, and the heavy cloud cover overhead obscured the moon, making their flashlight the only light source available as they navigated the desiccated landscape. It flickered worryingly as it bounced in Lamar’s hand.

  They broke through the tree line and bolted into the campsite. Lamar and Coop ran around the central firepit while Gaby cleared it in a single leap. The i
ku sounded like they were right behind them. As they rounded the fence line, Coop accidentally clipped the fence with his spear tip, causing the fragile perimeter wall to shudder. They finally reached the door to the wigwam and tried it. As Gaby had predicted, it was already barred. Inside, they could hear tiny grunts of exertion, likely Ken trying to operate the bow drill.

  Gaby pounded on the door.

  “Open up!” she shouted.

  The noise inside stopped.

  “You made your choice,” guttural Ken retorted from the other side of the door, which muffled his voice but not the sadistic glee in it.

  Lamar sidled up to the door and leaned against it.

  “You made the choice for her; kinda like you did for me,” he called out.

  Everything inside the wigwam went quiet for five agonizingly long seconds.

  “Lamar?” guttural Ken responded in disbelief. “What the hell are you doing back here?”

  Lamar opened his mouth to reply when Coop tapped him on the shoulder, nodding behind them. He spun the flashlight around and saw the ikus’ vanguard were starting to spread along the perimeter of the campsite.

  “We found a map,” Lamar finally answered, raising his voice to be heard over the ikus’ cries. “A map showing the way out.”

  “Bullshit!” guttural Ken spat from the other side of the door.

  “What are you doing?” Gaby whispered fiercely at Lamar. “He won’t fall for a cheap stunt like that!”

  In answer, Lamar motioned to Coop, who hurriedly fished the folded-up map from his robes and handed it over. Gaby’s eyes went wide with surprise as Lamar took the map and spread it out against the wigwam’s exterior. Clearly they had spent their day more productively than she had imagined.

  “Topographical Map for Quehanna Staging Area: Grid Reference System CW-15,” Lamar shouted through the closed door, reading from the map legend in the corner. “Trademark: Defense Supply Management Agency, 1956. Now does that sound like something I just made up?”

  Dead silence from inside the wigwam. Lamar strained to hear anything apart from the ikus’ frantic cries, which were now coming from all directions.

  “What if we kick in the door?” Coop asked.

  “It opens outward,” Gaby reminded him. “And if we busted it down, there wouldn’t be anything to stop the iku from coming in.”

  Coop glanced nervously over his shoulder again. The first of the iku had entered the campground and were now congregating on the other side of the central firepit.

  “Tell us where this supposed escape route is,” guttural Ken shouted through the door.

  “Twenty miles away,” Lamar replied evenly. “But unless you open up, you’ll never know which direction.”

  No response.

  Gaby pressed her ear against the door. She could hear Ken and Beverly arguing, but couldn’t make out what they were saying over the ikus’ din. She looked up and didn’t see any smoke issuing from the venting hole.

  “How’s the fire-making going?” she goaded. “Must be hard to do in the dark. Fortunately for you, we have a light source.”

  Lamar waved the flashlight in front of the wigwam, hoping enough light would seep in through the cracks in the door to prove their point. Coop snatched the light from his hand and aimed it at the fence line, where the iku were starting to congregate.

  “You’ve got less than a minute to decide before the iku have us for dinner!” Gaby shouted through the door.

  Coop swept the flashlight in a wide arc across the fence line. Everywhere his beam stopped, they spied new iku as reinforcements swarmed the perimeter, some trying to scale the fence while others tried to sneak through the entrance. A few tried to squeeze through cracks between the boards.

  After several agonizing seconds of this, they heard the ties on the door being loosened. It opened outward, and guttural Ken’s face appeared in the center, hateful and suspicious. He pointed the tip of the pocket knife through the door to underline his distrust.

  “Don’t try anything funny,” he warned, waving the blade in front of them. “If either of you do, I’ll kill you both.”

  Lamar moved the knife to the side and rushed in, followed quickly by Gaby. Guttural Ken was about to shut the door again when Coop forced his way in, catching him off guard.

  “Him too, huh? Guess we can’t get rid of any of you fuckers,” he growled as he tied the door shut once more and the group hunkered down for the night.

  * * * Twelve Hours Until Sunrise * * *

  The teepee was engulfed in shadows. Coop lowered his spear and trained the flashlight on the central firepit, where it found Beverly, surrounded by dozens of logs. She was coughing, shaking like a leaf and feebly trying to operate the bow drill with her one good hand. Gaby made a beeline for the bow drill.

  “Let me try,” she said, taking the equipment from a grateful Beverly.

  Coop handed the flashlight off to Lamar, who focused the light back on the entrance, where guttural Ken had finished tying off the upper and lower door enclosures. Guttural Ken shaded his eyes and hissed his disapproval. He looked almost primordial now, and reminded them of Wade back when the change was just starting to take hold.

  “You little shits just couldn’t keep away, could you?” guttural Ken groused as he bent down to pick up his spear, which he’d left beside the entrance. “I warned you what would happen if you returned.”

  Coop aimed his spear tip at Ken’s midsection and held it at the ready, braced against his hip.

  “You have to be able to make good on your threat, first,” he warned.

  Guttural Ken sneered with malice and stepped forward.

  Before Coop could react, Lamar stood in front of him and shined the flashlight under his face for dramatic effect to get everyone’s attention.

  “No one is killing anyone!” he insisted and hastily motioned for Coop to lower his spear tip, which he did reluctantly. “We’re not here for …”

  A sound from the other side of the room distracted Lamar. He spun around, and the flashlight’s beam found Wade on the opposite end of the teepee, sitting in the dirt with his hands tied behind his back and a gag in his mouth. He sported a nasty shiner and several fresh cuts to his forehead. Several feet away from him was the drinking water pail, which sloshed water over its sides as Wade bounced excitedly up and down.

  “Whet whem whin!” Wade babbled through the gag.

  “Wade’s alive?” Lamar and Coop exclaimed simultaneously.

  “No thanks to these two,” Gaby intoned from the central firepit as she worked the bow drill feverishly back and forth.

  “Is he still …?”

  “Nuttier than a box of Goobers? Yeah,” guttural Ken said. He motioned for Beverly to move the water pail somewhere away from Wade. If given half the chance, that fruitcake would probably knock the water into the firepit, and then they’d all be fucked.

  Beverly dragged the pail closer to the entrance, albeit with some difficulty. Coop observed that she was doing everything with her right hand and now walked with a pronounced limp.

  Lamar studied Wade in the light. “He looks more excitable than psychotic. Has he said anything?”

  “He never shuts up about how ‘the visitors’ saved him, and redeemed his sins, yada yada,” guttural Ken replied dismissively. “He’s clearly off his meds.”

  “I’m not so sure,” Lamar said thoughtfully, approaching Wade. “Let me talk to …”

  Guttural Ken held out his spear to bar Lamar’s passage.

  “He’s my prisoner.”

  The menace in his voice was palpable.

  “Fine, you can take all the credit you want. If I could just talk to him …”

  Lamar started forward again until Ken turned the spear inward so its sharpened tip poked the young man in the ribs.

  “The gag stays in,” guttural Ken insisted. “Now, tell us about the map.”

  “It’s a topo from the Air Force base. It’s old, but I doubt the geography around here has changed much in
the last 60 years,” Lamar said, holding up the folded map as proof. “Coop and I found a way out. We can lead everyone out at first light.”

  “Let me see it,” guttural Ken said, reaching for the map.

  Coop batted the hand away, eliciting a snarl from guttural Ken.

  “Your prisoner, our map,” Coop said firmly. “It stays with us.”

  Lamar nodded and tucked the map back into his jacket.

  Guttural Ken shook with fury at Coop’s slight. He opened his mouth to threaten them again, but Gaby spoke first.

  “Finish your pissing match later!” she insisted through gritted teeth as she sawed the bow drill in a furious side-to-side motion. “I need light to see what I’m doing.”

  Lamar and Coop backed cautiously away from guttural Ken before turning the light on Gaby.

  Outside, they could hear iku skittering along the wigwam’s perimeter on all sides. On the periphery of the flashlight’s cone of radiance, they could see the lower sections of the teepee bulging inward as the iku tried to force their way in. Lamar pulled the beam away from Gaby every few seconds to focus on strategic areas, like the door and the venting hole above.

  Gaby’s efforts were starting to bear fruit, with tiny plumes of smoke rising from the fireboard, when the flashlight started to dim. Lamar smacked the battery case as always, but instead of the bulb roaring back to life, it simply went dead this time.

  “Ohhh, shit,” Lamar intoned as he flipped the switch on and off several times while repeatedly slapping the flashlight. Nothing worked. The triumphant sound of chirping filled the night sky. The rustling along the exterior of the teepee intensified as the creatures struggled to breach it.

  In the darkness, Lamar noticed the smoke getting thicker as Gaby continued working, undaunted. He coughed and took a step back. A tiny pinprick of light sprung forth as an ember emerged at the base of the fireboard. Gaby gently upended the fireboard, and the glowing ember disappeared into a pile of kindling at its base. After a few seconds the ember reappeared, larger this time, as it fed on the combustible material. A tiny wisp of flame sprung from the pile, illuminating Gaby’s face as she gently blew on the pile.