“O’Malley?” Andrew called. There was no reply, but out of his peripheral vision, he caught a sudden hint of movement and swung again. “Who’s there?”
There was no answer, only that permeating stillness, devoid of any rustling, any bird songs, any life. This time, when Andrew started to move again, he broke into a broad, swift stride, weaving among the trees, ducking to avoid low-lying limbs.
From behind him: Snap-snap-SNAP
He turned, rifle readied, but saw nothing. Then, from his right, the crackling of leaves under heavy foots; from his left, the staccato patter of breaking limbs. He whirled around, rifle raised, his heart racing. They’re all around me.
This was no cougar, no pack of coyotes on the prowl.
“Who’s there?” he shouted, his voice hoarse, somewhat shaking. At another quiet yet somehow ominous rustle, he pivoted and caught sight of something to his left, moving swiftly among the shadows and tree trunks—large and definitely upright, bipedal, it was little more than a fleeting glimpse, but still distinctive.
He thought of the thing he thought he’d seen on the night of his crash, the bipedal creature that had been scuttling across the road, that had screamed at him in furious challenge less than a second before the Jeep had slammed headlong into it. Not a bear, he thought. It wasn’t a bear and it wasn’t a cougar, and unless it was my imagination, I don’t think it was human, either.
“Shit.” Andrew heard more rustling and then turned, began to run. Based on what he’d heard, there were at least three of the things in the woods—one behind him, one on either side, all moving in on him quickly, deliberately. And he had no intention of sticking around to find out why.
His boot soles skittered for uncertain purchase in the slippery carpet of leaves and brambles. Twice, he lost his footing, falling onto his knees, his ass, and he scrambled upright as fast as he could. When at last, he came to a stop, he pressed himself against the broad trunk of a pine tree, winded. He wanted to gasp, to gulp greedily to reclaim his breath, but pressed his lips together instead, listening.
Did I lose them? he wondered. He’d cut a zig-zagging, erratic path through the woods on purpose in the hopes of shaking off anyone who’d tried to follow him.
He poked his head around the side of the tree, listened and waited.
One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi
He didn’t even make it to ten-Mississippi before he heard footsteps crashing through the brush, coming up fast.
“Shit!” Andrew ducked out from behind the tree and ran again, pumping his arms, his feet pounding against the muddy ground. He ran like he’d never in his entire life, until the frantic cadence of his heart left him feeling as if it would leap clear out of his chest, until his breath was so ragged, he was nearly gagging. He ran until he felt something catch against his ankle, something that drew abruptly snug as he bolted past, and in an instant, just as he realized what it was…
Snare line!
…he was jerked off his feet, whipping ass over elbows into the air, caught in a rope trap that left him swinging in a wild, swooping arc at least twenty feet in the air.
“Shit!” Andrew screamed, because everything in his line of sight was now topsy-turvy, looping and circling, and all of the blood was rushing into his face, his brain.
“Shit!” he screamed again, as he careened face-first into something dangling upside from the tree next to him—the desiccated remains of a human being likewise strung up by the remains of its ankle. Its parchment-like flesh had peeled back and fallen away, exposing blackened tissue and underlying bone beneath. The head and torso had decomposed enough to leave the skull almost entirely exposed, open and empty eye sockets glaring, its toothy, skeletal mouth hanging wide. Scraps of hair, scraggly tufts poked out of what was left of its scalp, and as Andrew swung back toward it, helpless to stop himself, screaming the whole time, he could see the corpse wore the tattered remains of an Army uniform.
(c) 2010 Sara Reinke
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