Ark

Chapter 11

The dense tangle of trees seemed to reach out to grab Bones as he dashed through the forest. Breaking into a clearing, he had to watch his step as the holes of long ago rotted stumps made his path a veritable minefield. He leaped across a deep gap where the game trail he followed had eroded into one of the holes, and landed on an uneven patch of ground. His ankle rolled and hot pain coursed through his leg.

He had caught a glimpse of two men who were pursuing him. He had a good lead on them, but they definitely had his trail. He'd tried to hide signs of his passing as much as he could, considering the rapidity of his flight, but it had not thrown them off. It galled him that he could not shake the hunters.

He caught a glimpse of sunlight and blue sky up ahead. The forest was thinning out. Perhaps there was an end to this valley, maybe even a road or some other sign of civilization.

He burst through the undergrowth and came skidding to a halt. The tips of his booted feet slid over the edge of a sheer cliff. The drop was hundreds of feet to the rocks below. No wonder his pursuers had no fear of him escaping. The wooded area through which he ran had neatly funneled him to this dead end. Could he double back and work his way past them or at least get back to high ground? They would expect him to end up here, so they would be moving this way. How could he use that to his advantage? Keenly aware that the sand was running out of the hourglass, he concentrated. What could he do? A thought struck him and he hurried back to the clearing.

He had done this many times before, so the task was a simple one. In less than a minute he had scooped heaps of crumbling earth out of the hole in the trail until it was a good three feet deep. He’d then covered it over with twigs, leaves, and soil. Ideally, he'd have dug a deep pit and placed sharpened stakes at the bottom, but he lacked the time or tools to create such a trap. When the Viet Cong had made pits like this one, they smeared the sharpened stakes with their own feces in order to give the victim a septic infection. He grinned at the thought of one of these inbreeders impaled on a sharpened crap stick. Too bad he couldn’t go that route. In this case, he just needed to distract his pursuers long enough for him to get away.

He melted into the brush near the cliff and began working his way back in the direction of the battlefield. In a matter of seconds he heard the stealthy approach of his stalkers. He froze, knowing that any movement could give him away. He watched as the men, the younger one in the lead, followed by Carter, the big, paunchy guy who seemed to be in charge of the group, moved along the path. They were quiet, at least, quiet for white guys, and moved well in the woods; he'd give them that much. Thirty yards from where he watched, the young man stepped right into Bones' trap, gave a yelp of surprise, and fell face-first onto the trail.

Bones fired off two quick shots at Carter, but the man had reacted the moment the ground gave way beneath his companion's feet. Moving faster than Bones would have believed possible for a man of his bulk and girth, he dived to the ground and rolled behind a tree. Bones' shots sizzled through empty air. He flattened out behind a stump, cursing his luck.

Now up on all fours, the younger man scrambled for his rifle. Bones squeezed off a carefully aimed shot that took his target in the head. Carter cried out in anger at the sight of his fallen comrade. Bones snapped off another shot in the direction of the cry and then ran as fast as his injured ankle would permit.

Bullets shredded the greenery around him. He dodged to his right, trying to put an oak tree between himself and his attacker, but just before he moved behind the tree, fire lanced across his chest, and he heard the rifle's report. He knew immediately he had been shot.

There wasn't time to do more than glance at the bloody streak across his pectoral muscle, but he could tell it was not a serious wound — little more than a scratch. He paused behind the tree long enough to fire off another shot in the direction of his attacker before taking off again. He wondered if the gunfire would draw the other hunters. He assumed it would, but at least he had taken care of another one of them. But could he really expect to take out all of them? His luck couldn’t hold that long.

Somehow, he had to find Maddock and get the hell out of here.

Maddock pressed his body into the hollow of an old oak tree. The earthy smells of the forest surrounded him. A gentle breeze swayed the treetops. It should have been a peaceful moment, but the perverse juxtaposition of tranquility and his life-and-death struggle turned his stomach. He gripped the strange black stone he had found in the cave, finding comfort in its weight. It would make for a decent weapon in a pinch.

Shielded on his other side by a fir tree, he would be nigh invisible to anyone headed up the wash, and he had reason to believe someone would be coming soon. He had prepared his trap and then let himself be spotted crossing the top of the ridge. He had been certain to look like he was on the move, in hopes the men who saw him would not expect an ambush. Now he waited.

Soon, he heard the faint scuff of a booted foot on stone. Whoever was climbing the wash was being careless. Maddock prayed the man was equally unobservant. His prayer was answered moments later with a loud thwack and a shout of surprise and pain and the sound of something metal clattering to the ground. Maddock sprang from his hiding place and leaped into the wash, the sharp stone upraised, but when his eyes fell on the man, he realized immediately that there was no need for the weapon.

It was Nathan, the youngest of the hunters. His eyes were wide in death, surprised at what had befallen him, and his mouth hung open, a string of spittle dripping from his lower lip. His first blood had been his own.

Maddock had found a springy sapling growing chest-high out of a crack in the stone just beyond a sharp bend in the rock, tied his dive knife to it, bent it back and fixed it in place. He then set a trip line made of vine. It was one of the many tricks he'd picked up during his time as a SEAL. He had expected it to distract and hopefully injure his enemy, but he was gratified to see that the knife had found the young man's heart. Perhaps he should feel bad about taking the life of a youth of no more than twenty, but he could muster no sympathy for one who would hunt down another man like an animal.

One less murderer walking among us.

He listened for any sound that would indicate the approach of another hunter. Hearing none, he set to work. He took Nathan’s rifle and a few spare rounds. Next, he freed his knife from the makeshift trap and cleaned the blade on the dead man's shirt. Another one down, but how many more to go?

If only he could find Bones, they could get out of this mess. Of course, he had heard shouts and gunfire somewhere down below. He hoped that meant Bones was taking care of business. Bones had to be all right.

He spotted a flash of movement in the undergrowth below. It was barely more than a momentary glimpse. He froze, looking and listening, but he neither saw nor heard anything else. He knew only one person who could move like that in the forest.

“Bones?” In the quiet, his whisper sounded louder than any gunshot.

“Maddock?” Bones melted out of the nearby trees. Blood soaked one side of his shirt, but he otherwise looked strong. “About time you showed up. How many did you get?”

“Three.”

“You suck. I've only gotten two. The next one is mine, and we can flip for the last.” He looked around and caught sight of Nathan's body. He spotted the vine tied to the sapling and nodded.

“Nice booby trap, Maddock. You keep hanging around with us natives and we’ll turn you into a real woodsman. I guess you used your knife?” Maddock nodded. “Good job. I didn’t like that kid. Didn't have proper respect for his elders.”

As they moved on up the mountain, each filled the other in on the events that had brought them to this point. Bones cursed when Maddock told him what he had learned from Bevel about the corrupt park ranger and the self-styled hunters of men.

“They asked me some weird questions, too. It’s almost as if they’ve got some connection to the people who came after Grandfather.”

“I think Carter does,” Maddock said, remembering Bevel’s words.

Suddenly, a bestial cry of pain and rage shattered the silence. Maddock immediately dropped to his belly and pointed his rifle in the direction of the cry. From his hiding place, he could see that Nathan's father had found his son's body. Maddock inched forward, looking for a clear shot. Bones wormed his way up alongside him.

“My turn,” Bones whispered.

But there was no need for either of them to take the shot, though. Letting loose an anguished wail, Nathan's father let his rifle fall to the ground. He dropped to his knees and drew a pistol from his belt. With trembling hands, he reversed the weapon and put it in his mouth.

Maddock closed his eyes as the sound of the shot echoed through the canyon.

“You’re such a wimp.” Bones face split in a wicked grin. “It’s not like it’s the first death you’ve ever seen, and that guy totally deserved it. He’s the one who brought his son into this, and turned him into a wannabe killer just like his old man.”

“I know.” Maddock grimaced at the thought of what had just transpired. “Suicide just seems like it should be a… private thing.” Nathan’s father deserved no sympathy. In fact, Maddock would have killed him without remorse, yet he took no pleasure from witnessing death. Sometimes, killing needed to be done, but there was always a part of him that found it regrettable.

“We can talk philosophy later. Let’s get on to the important subject. Did you find it?”

It took Maddock a moment to realize Bones was asking about the stone. “Oh, sorry dude. All I found was one of those rubber-tipped spears like you guys sell to little kids at your trading posts. Oh, and an Indian taco. I ate that.”

Bones’ eyes, which had fallen at the word “sorry,” widened as he realized Maddock was messing with him. “Hand it over, bro. Now!”

Maddock drew the stone from his bag and held it out.

Bones gasped. He took it in trembling hands and held it up. His eyes glowed, and his grin was almost beatific as he gazed on his ancestor's treasure.

“This is really it,” he whispered. “A part of me thought Esau was full of crap and maybe he’d made it all up. But it’s real.”

“So what do you think it is?” Maddock thought it was a fine example of craftsmanship, but apparently there was much more to the artifact.

“It looks kind of like a spear point, but I don’t think it’s a Native American artifact. The shape is too…refined, I guess. And there’s something about the stone itself that makes it seem…”

Ancient? Otherworldly? Alien?”

“Yeah, all that crap and more.” He lowered his hands and his eyes met Maddock's. “Thanks, bro. You don't know what this means to me.”

“No worries. Hopefully this is the first step to getting those guys off your grandfather’s back.”

“For sure.” Bones continued to examine the stone. “All these carvings of animals. They’re rough, like they were scratched on long after this was made. It’s weird, but when I look at them, I’m sure this thing has power.”

“You think it’ll let you talk to animals?”

“Maybe.” Bones admired the stone for a moment longer before tucking it into his belt and rising to his feet. “There’ll be time to look at it later. It occurs to me there’s only one man left. Let's find our friend Carter and show him what it's like to be hunted.”

They made their way to the cliff that overlooked the battlefield, lake, and vehicles. “We're almost too late.” Maddock pointed to the spot where a figure had just broken from the cover of the forest and was lumbering toward the parked trucks and jeeps. Carter.

“We can’t let him get away,” Bones said. “If this place has a tradition of hunting outsiders, they’ll want to cover it up. No way we’d get a fair trial around here.”

Maddock sighed. “Do what you’ve got to do.”

Bones smiled and raised his rifle.

“That's a long shot.” Maddock arched an eyebrow. “Think you can make it?”

Bones only grinned more broadly as he gently squeezed the trigger. Far below them, Carter fell flat on his face. “Dinner's on you for doubting me.”

“Are you kidding me? You can even think about eating after all this?” Maddock rubbed his temples. “We need to get out of here, and fast. Like you said, even though we're in the right, if we’re caught, what chance would we have of getting any kind of justice around here? Hell, in a town like this, the judge, jury, and victims are probably all first cousins. I think we need to dispose of the bodies, pitch the rifles into the lake, and get the hell out of Dodge.”

“You're right.” Bones drew the stone from where he had tucked it into his belt. “But if what Grandfather said about this thing is true, we won't have any trouble dealing with the bodies. After that, we’ve got one more loose end I'm going to tie up.”

“What are you going to do?” Maddock took a step back.

“I’m not sure.” Bones held the stone in the flat of his palm, staring hard at it. A minute passed in silence. Bones shook his head. “Either Esau was full of crap or we’re missing the key to unlock this thing.”

Maddock frowned. The key to unlock the stone. The key…

“Blood is the key! Remember the last line of the story.

“Maddock, you’re a freaking genius.” Bones pressed the stone against his still dripping chest wound, and closed his eyes. “Dude, I can feel it.”

“Feel what?”

“I can’t explain it but… holy crap, they’re coming.”

“Who is coming?” As if in reply, a loud rustling sound filled the forest. What Maddock saw momentarily took his breath. “Unbelievable.”