The Icarus Effect

by Nick Thacker

  Ben jumped to his feet as the other attacker sprinted at him. Fifteen feet of distance between them. Mind racing. There were knives in the kitchen area of this giant room but that was about it. Ben had some bear repellant in his pack, but it was buried deep among the layers of long underwear and backcountry cookware.

  Both of them have knives. This isn't going to be a fair fight.

  His best option was to reach the large carving knife in the wooden block in the kitchen. Even then, he wasn’t sure if he could take on two armed attackers, but something told him he wasn’t going to be able to reason with them. This was time to act, not barter.

  Ben pivoted and sprinted toward the kitchen. The carving knife out in the middle of the counter appeared to him like the Sword in the Stone — waiting longingly for its rightful owner. The attacker changed direction and was within seconds of beating him to it.

  When the guy neared within a few feet, Ben pivoted again. They were right next to each other. Ben threw his shoulder into the attacker, knocking him back into the wall. A plastic clock hanging above their heads slipped from its thumbtack and clanked on the floor.

  The other guy — the one Ben had hit with the pot—was rising to his feet. Two against one. Both of them still brandishing those knives.

  The nearest attacker raised the knife and drove it toward Ben. He got a split-second look at the man’s face. White guy, brown hair and light eyes from what he could tell in the darkness. Much of his face was still dark, but Ben looked right into those eyes and saw this man would kill him. The malice was written right there.

  Ben threw up his arm, his forearm connecting, blocking the knife just before it wedged into his shoulder blade. He used his leverage to knock the man back again, just as the other one entered his peripheral vision.

  Ben saw an open bag of sunflower seeds sitting on the counter. He snatched a handful of them and then whipped them up toward the attacker’s eyes. A couple of them landed, and the guy yelped and covered his eyes. He didn’t drop the knife, though. And he recovered in a manner of seconds.

  Ben jumped back to the other side of the kitchen. The carving block knife was between them. They were each about two feet away from it.

  The other one was still coming.

  No time. He couldn’t take two of them at once. Even with that carving knife, Ben didn’t trust himself to engage in a bladed fight against two attackers. This is crazy. He knew he had to get out of here, right now.

  Ben ducked and sprinted away from both of them, toward the front door. He had a ten-foot head start and momentum, and he managed to snatch his jacket from the back of a chair on his way to the open door. Everything else was still inside, on or next to the bed. He’d have to do without.

  He whipped the door back and leaped onto the porch. Still dark outside. He had no idea how long he’d been asleep, or even what time it was.

  Out into the night, the cold swirled around him like water in the deep end of a pool. Feet shuffling behind. Voices, grunting, their knives no doubt slashing through the air as they chased. He broke from his paralysis and jumped down from the porch. There was a patted-down path back to the main trail, and Ben raced forward, ignoring everything else behind and to his sides. Tunnel vision.

  All Ben could think of was getting away, losing these two in the wilderness. Hoping he could find a way to survive the night.

  Chapter Four

  Shuffling in the grass awoke Ben. His eyes flicked open to see an elk padding through the valley across from him. Ten feet away. Spidery horns lashed out from its head, like Medusa but with sharp points instead of snakes. The creature’s long neck shifted toward him, paused, then it trotted away.

  As his sense came back, he heard the sounds of nearby rushing water, the feeling of icy dew in his hair, and the smell of the pines.

  Ben blinked a few times and twisted in the makeshift shelter of the bed of leaves. Not the best place to sleep, as he’d shivered for most of the night, waking him up every few minutes. Not to mention the prospect of those two knife-wielding assholes finding him. Tucked away in a thicket of trees, this was about as secluded as he could get out in the open. It’s not as if it would have been a smart idea to pick a random cave to sleep in. Best not to disturb any bears.

  But, the knife-wielders hadn’t found him and the sun was now beginning to rise. If they were going to look for him, they might wait until first light. Ben had a few minutes before the sun crested the peaks to the east.

  All of Ben’s gear was back at the cabin. Food, water purifier, walkie talkie, bear repellant, plus a few more layers to stop the shivering.

  He wasn’t sure exactly how far from the cabin he’d wandered, but he guessed a half-mile. The mad scramble in the middle of the night had been so haphazard, he wasn’t even sure at first which direction to head to get back.

  When he stood, his back ached and his legs burned. But that didn’t matter. He had to get the gear and set out to find someone he could trust to handle this William situation. That person would be Reese, hopefully, or maybe Ben would give up on that and head back to the park HQ. But, he had to be careful. It was safe to assume that since he’d seen the body and had been attacked, someone didn’t want this information getting out.

  As he rubbed his hands up and down his arms to create some heat, he set out toward the cabin. Along the way, shivering and cold, he found a sturdy stick that had broken at a sharpened point. He gripped it as he hiked. Not quite as intimidating as a knife, but if he came upon the two knife-wielding intruders, better to have it than nothing.

  But, he didn’t find them anywhere as he hiked back in the general direction of the cabin. The morning was quiet, with the occasional pika or marmot crossing his path. The sound of water guided him back to his destination, and Ben found it ten minutes after he started.

  He hunkered down under a tree to study it for a few minutes before attempting entry. Not a sound came from the building. No smoke coming from the fireplace.

  He tried to imagine what he would do if he opened the front door to find them snoozing on the floor in sleeping bags. He liked to think he would karate chop both of them into submission, but that was probably a pipe dream — especially since his entire understanding of karate came from the movie The Karate Kid and its sequels. If he did walk in to find them, his best bet would be to turn around and sprint in the other direction.

  Maybe then he would head toward Thunder Lake to intercept Reese before he came back to this cabin and stumbled into a nasty surprise. After losing William, if Ben lost Reese, he would definitely feel responsible for that one.

  And then, a terrible thought occurred: what if Reese was already gone? What if the two invaders had written that note yesterday? It’s not as if Ben was familiar with Reese’s handwriting.

  This extra bit of uncertainty brought on a massive headache, and Ben had to sit with his eyes closed to wait for it to abate. Too much going on in the last twenty-four hours.

  Several minutes had now passed, and the cabin sat silent and still. Against the backdrop of the mountains shrouded in early morning fog, this all felt like a postcard, not real life.

  Time to do it.

  After working up his nerve, he approached the back of the cabin and peered in a window. The interior was as empty as it had been when Ben showed up yesterday. No signs the invaders had been here or had even spent the night.

  Feeling a little more confident, Ben rounded the cabin to the front and opened the door, stick in hand. He tried the knob and found it unlocked, then he flung the door open. Still empty inside. The covers on the bed were in the exact same position as when Ben had whipped them off him a few hours before.

  “I’m armed, you pieces of shit,” he said. No response.

  He first went into the kitchen and exchanged his stick for a real knife from the wooden cutting block. There were only two places to check: the closet and the covered privy outside.

  Ben held the knife high as he opened the closet door to find a small, barren place.
A couple of swinging coat hangers, a cluster of packaged emergency blankets, but that was about it.

  Same with the privy outside. When Ben was sure he had the place to himself, he let the tension roll out of his shoulders, and then he had a decision to make. The best course of action would be to get on with the business of reporting what he’d seen. But, his stomach was rumbling, and the cabin had food. The lingering headache from a few minutes ago needed food and caffeine to treat it.

  So, Ben decided to make breakfast. After being on the trail for a few days, he marveled at the refrigerator full of eggs and bacon and sausage. His eyes grew wide and he salivated so much, he had to spit into the sink.

  And as he prepared his morning feast, he kept the knife close by and his eyes on the door.

  Just as the bacon started to crackle, footsteps thumped from the porch outside. Ben snatched the knife and crouched behind the dining table. Heart pounding. He eyed his escape route: into the bathroom and out the window.

  The door flung open.

  Reese stood there, weighted down by a backpack. Ben’s tall and muscular ranger friend cocked his head and offered a smirk. “Bennett?”

  “Hey, Reese.”

  “Dude, what are you doing here? I thought you were further up north.”

  Ben let out a sigh so large, he had to steady himself against the table to keep from collapsing to the floor from lightheadedness. “Sit down and have some eggs. I have to tell you story you’re not going to believe.”

  ###

  Continue reading the next book in the series, The Severed Pines.

  The Enigma Strain

  Harvey “Ben” Bennett started as an everyman in The Enigma Strain. He was a reclusive, quiet, and simple sort of guy.

  No one ever expected him to lead the Civilian Special Operations, fighting for what’s right around the world, putting his life in danger time and time again.

  If you want a sneak-peek at the book that started it all, the first in the Harvey Bennett Mysteries series, The Enigma Strain, turn the page!

  Prologue

  1704, Northwest Territory, Canada

  The sound of another exploding tree caused Nikolai Alexei to jump. He could hear the men behind him snickering, but he didn’t turn to address it. It wasn’t worth his time, and it was poor leadership to acknowledge pettiness. He grumbled under his breath and marched forward through the knee-deep snow.

  Nikolai enjoyed the nostalgic characteristics of winter. This land reminded him of home; of the countless kilometers of deep black forest, filled with the same animals he used to hunt, the same trees he used to climb, and the same bitter cold he used to long for. He remembered the smells, too – the ripe evergreen scent, the fresh blankets of snow thick enough to halt a horse, and the sheer emptiness of the air.

  He knew the sounds as well. The frozen tree sap inside the trunks of the pines would expand, causing the bark and wood to explode. His father had explained it to him on a wolf-hunting trip when he was a boy, and he had often lain awake at night, counting the rippling explosions as they worked their way through the wooded area around their cabin. He was more comfortable in the woods than any of his men, with the possible exception of Lev.

  Still, the laughter of the men frustrated him. It wasn’t a sign of insubordination as much as it was a sign of their laziness. For three months they’d made their trek over mountains and across valleys so high and so deep he’d thought they wouldn’t make it to the other side with their entire crew intact. They’d crossed tundras, plateaus, and wetlands, all without losing a man. Their hunting excursions were always successful, and most nights ended around a large bonfire with a deer roasting on a spit. Breakfast was hot soup, and they snacked on smoked meats throughout the day.

  Nikolai had to admit that it was, so far, one of the more successful trips he’d been on, and he knew God was smiling on them in this new land. But he knew it made them weak; it made them soft. They had grown fat and sluggish, traveling fewer kilometers every day than the day before. Their energy and excitement had been replaced by restlessness, and their stories and poems told around the fire had devolved into passionless songs.

  Without turning around, he called back to the twenty-seven men behind him. “Where is the doctor?”

  A short, thin man rushed to his side. Nikolai did not slow his pace. “What is our status, doctor?”

  “We are well, commander. We are full, and morale is high.”

  "But we move slower each day,” Nikolai said. “We have caught more game than we can eat, and we build fires larger than we can burn in one night. The men are fat, and they are growing complacent.”

  “But they are happy, sir,” the doctor said.

  “Happiness is as much a curse as a virtue,” Nikolai said, turning to the shorter man. “We will stop and make camp when we next find a clearing. The river is to the north, and we can fish there for as long as we like.”

  Nikolai was a man of his word; a man of integrity. He had promised his superiors back in Russia a map of the deep terrain of North America, and he intended to deliver it. His expedition had grown mundane, and it was time to bring it back to life.

  “Split the men into crews of two and three,” Nikolai said, “and I will send them out in the morning to chart the area. The comrades will find pleasure in a change of scenery, and I myself will enjoy an excursion of a more solitary nature.”

  “So you will wander alone through these parts?” The doctor asked.

  Nikolai laughed. “I will take care to not lose myself in the fog, if that is what you are asking. Sometimes a man must wander, my friend,” he said. “But rest assured, we will gather together after three days.”

  The doctor nodded and fell in line behind Nikolai. Nikolai was uncertain if this plan of his would do more good than endanger them all, but it was a risk he was willing to take. They had found nothing useful thus far; nothing the motherland would be inclined to return for. Cartography was their stated manifest, but he was under no false pretenses. By moving outward in smaller groups, the expedition could cover more territory and more ground than by moving in a single line.

  So far, they had charted the great river to their north all the way from the sea, but they knew that every river began somewhere. Whether it was a lake at the top of a mountain peak or from tributaries caused by glacial melt, he did not know.

  And he didn’t care.

  Nikolai Alexei was here for one reason, and one reason alone. His homeland sought riches, as did his men. All men sought more than what God had initially blessed them with. It was man’s duty to find what he was owed in this life, with all the more blessings to be bestowed upon him in the afterlife.

  This new land was not known for its riches, as it had been settled merely years before, but it was the great unknown that continued to attract new inhabitants, and it was this same force that attracted Nikolai to this opportunity.

  Prologue

  1704, Northwest Territory, Canada

  The first star appeared in the heavens above him, and Nikolai turned to the line behind him. “Make camp,” he ordered his men. “There is a clearing to our left; we will stay there.”

  Immediately, the men filed out from their positions in the line and began to extract poles and tarps from their packs. A few broke away to hunt while others milled about and checked canteen levels.

  They were slow, Nikolai noticed. After the last few days’ effort it did not surprise him, but it did not please him much either. It took over an hour to set up the ten tents and build a fire, but no more than ten minutes for the men to begin huddling around it.

  Soon the sky darkened, and the moon arose above them, nearly full. Food was prepared, a roasted deer and herb soup, and the men began singing.

  Nikolai had had enough. He broke away from the camp and lifted the moose skin parka hood up and over his head. The bitter cold bit into his flesh, and the gentle wind threatened to chill his core, but he didn’t notice. He made for a smaller clearing to the south that he had seen
earlier, one with a rock outcropping against a higher mountain cliff. The river they were following had likely cut down into this valley they were currently in, and if he was lucky, it had left some interesting formations for him.

  He reached the clearing and scared away a small mammal that disappeared into a hole in front of a tree. He stepped into the open grassy area and looked toward the outcropping. It appeared that the boulders were precariously situated around a hole near the ground, beckoning him closer. As he approached, he could see in the failing light that the rocks were, in fact, surrounding an opening to a small cave.

  As a boy, nothing had excited him more than exploring unmarked caves and caverns. His father had joined him in a spelunking expedition once, and together they discovered an underground spring that provided water to the well near their cabin.

  He had no light with him, but he ducked inside anyway. Feeling around with his hands and arms, he felt the excitement within him growing.

  Tomorrow, he would head here first thing, bringing a torch with him and a few extra men. This was the type of cave that would have made a perfect shelter for one of the native tribes that might call this place home. So far, they had not encountered any such people, but they had no way of knowing if indigenous tribes lived along these rivers or not.

  A light appeared behind him, flickering and orange. He could almost feel the heat of the torch as it grew brighter.

  “Nikolai?” A voice said, softly. “Is that you?”

  It was the doctor’s voice, a little unsure.

  “Yes, doctor,” Nikolai said. “Bring the light. I would like to have a look at this place.”

  The doctor responded by stepping forward to Nikolai’s side, and he lifted the torch up in front of them.