《Truck, Firearms, and A New World》 Ch.1 Smoke Gets in Your Eyes This is nice. Smell of pine, fire crackling, dogs roasted, buzz going, and not another person for miles. I think most people would be spooked camping out by themselves, especially far out in the woods like i am, and sure, the first few trips out by myself I may have been a little spooked, but now the solitude is comforting: zen. A nice reprieve from the daily grind. A good opportunity to clear my head. Of course, the plan was to involve a few more people on this trip, my friends, girlfriend, sister, but emergencies came up, other plans cropped up, straight up, ¡°not going man.¡± from people I thought cared about me. Fair weather friends, apparently. Liars. People i thought i could trust, thought i knew. Shows a lot about me huh? The man who surrounds himself with caricatures, can''t even tell who gives a damn about him and who¡¯s a two faced cuN---... Whew. Zen... Zen¡­ Whew. Looking at my feet i see the beer i¡¯ve been sipping on for the last short while, almost empty. My left hand moves to bring the drink to my lips, and my right grips tighter around the wooden handle of Freya. Satisfied i can¡¯t get a single drop more from the glass container, I toss the bottle high, high into the air, pull Freya close, and track the flight of the bottle with my eyes. BOOM, click-clack The sound, the recoil, the flash stealing my vision: I don''t notice. Just the bottle clink on the ground. ¡°Tipped it.¡± I mutter to myself. I''m not surprised i missed, it¡¯s practically pitch black outside the crackling fire im sitting in front of. It¡¯s a new moon, and the canopy im sitting under is decidedly thicc, so it¡¯s even hard the see the milky way, and constellations from where im sitting. It¡¯s okay though, stargazing is nice and all, but it''s more a happy time hobby, not a self pity hobby. Well, thinking about it there are a lot of movies that would disagree with me, ¡®our hero gazes up into the cosmos and ponders on their mistakes, faults and problems, and wonders, with how small they are, does it really matter?¡¯ naw, that aint me. I''m more a ¡®shits fucked so im gonna blow up bottles with a 12 gauge¡¯ type of guy. I¡¯d like to vent a bit though, y¡¯know? Talk a little. But just me and the bugs here. Assholes. Zen. No, im probably just being hard on my friends, i mean who wants to spend a week in the middle of nowhere with a guy who''s about to find out his girlfriend, is not only cheating, but also wants the boyfriend and insignificant other to become friends on the trip. I mean what the fuck kind of person does that. Is that how people see me? Someone who¡¯s okay with being some cuckolded bitch? That''s the impression I give? And, what the hell, am i blind? Has she always been like this? Did she give hints of this? Did my ¡°friends¡± know? I feel sick. This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. One more beer. And I can''t hold a grudge against my sister, she actually had an emergency, or, her version of one anyway, what was it? Something like ¡°boss forgot how to tie his shoes, and wanted a pb and j.¡± and im sure she would have come on the trip if she knew what was happening, hell I didn''t even know what was happening until Mia pulled up in that guys car, no that fuckboys moms SUV. a Honda Pilot? Thats a mom car. He-bitch drives his moms car, dopey-eyed, brick headed, steve-from-minecraft-looking motherfucker. Probably vapes and listens to mumble rap, the basic mmmfffrrm. Whew. Zen. Chug. Pull. BOOM. A rainfall of glass showers a small patch of forest, and a small grin slips on my face, for just a moment. Is it just me or does this forest sound like tinnitus?... click-clack I knew something was wrong once everyone, all at once cancelled last minute. All within the span of a half-hour, starting an hour before we were going to head out. Then Mia pulls up in a car i¡¯ve never seen, ¡®I didn''t pass middle school math¡¯ hops out and it just took a nosedive from there. I think I handled it pretty well. Shouting, yelling, screaming, I threw a plate of nachos across my sisters front yard, but, i didn''t hit anyoneorshoot them, even though I was really, really tempted. ¡°Chill out man,¡± he says, ¡°chill out.¡± He says to chill? Him? In that situation? I need to ch- BOOM, click-clack BOOM, click-clack BOOM, click-clack Click-clack click, click-clack click, click-clack Click Someone¡¯s yelling. Their yelling their throat hoarse. They¡¯re close. I''m the only person for miles. Ever shoot a campfire? Its a dumb idea, and a good way to start a forest fire. Shrapnel and dust and smoke get everywhere. Thats why. That''s the reason, just dust and shrapnel got in my eyes, just dust and smoke and wood bits. Im fine. Im Zen. I sit for awhile, live in the moment, the moment that seemingly stretches for hours and feels, still and cold and silent as an arctic winter. I listen: nothing, no sounds at all save for wheezy breathing and sniffles here and there, no crackling, no bugs, no birds; its deafening. The heat from the fire, snuffed out in my tantrum, leaves me shivering despite the mild midsummer night air wrapped around me like a swaddled babe. I look up, the night sky shows through in countless spots despite the treetops trying so hard to be a perfect ceiling. I look down, black, save for the embers scattered across the ground, almost mirroring the stars above. I sit for awhile longer, and decide that''s enough melodrama, I don''t expect to just get over her, three years feels like a long time for a 19 year-old, and it hurts. It feels like someone dropped a boulder on my gut, but rationally, I know, there''s nothing to be done here, except move on, ¡°the potatoes are mashed¡± my sister would say. I won''t forgive what she''s done and she can''t make it up to me so that''s it, all there is to it. It''s not like i''m at fault here right? I''m not the one who cheated, i was devoted, and true, and¡­ Zen. no use thinking about it, at least for today. I stand up and stamp out all the embers i can see, then turn on my headlamp and pour water in and around the firepit, take a long piss, grab Freya and crawl into my mesh tent. I think I''ll go fishing tomorrow... Ch. 2 Dazed and... Ugh ¡°Uovia wavia¡± ¡­ ¡°Uovia wavia susuma¡± Hmm? Who¡¯s that? Ugh, water, mouth, eugh little headache, face in puddle of drool, have to pee, somones talking? Im alone though¡­ good dream, more sleemm¡­ ¡°Susuma woneke, drovivo¡± Someone is in my camp. Talking to me in my camp, miles from anyone. Oh shit. gun? Guns here, good. Let''s get up. ¡°Hmm, I''m up, i¡¯m up.¡± Sitting up i take stock of my immediate surroundings, Freya lying in the crux of the tent, blearily, i remember she''s empty, and i left my ammo in my truck. My 45. Still on my hip, one in the chamber seven in the magazine. Knife? Left hip. Eww i slept with my boots on; I slept in all my clothes ugh. Looking up i see something that genuinely confuses me. Well, it''s not that I''m confused that there''s someone here, weird as it is; what''s weird is what they¡¯re wearing, which is to say, basically nothing. A loincloth going down to their calf, a large shell looking necklace, paint, or tattoos covering their skin, hair tied up in a knot with a bone holding it in place, and a friendly looking smile. I¡¯d ironically probably be pretty disarmed by his smile if the guy didn''t look just like one of the cannibals from pirates of the carribean, or the fact he''s holding a spear twice his height. The spear is also unusual in that you''d picture the guy having some gnarled stone-tipped spear but it looks, honest to God, manufactured, like some medieval pikemen should be welding it instead. I stare for a few seconds, but the man''s smile never wavers. ¡°Susuma, quene gunes? Ovool?¡± the man says, smile falling in favor of a concerned look. I must look like shit if this guy¡¯s concerned. Deciding this guy seems harmless enough for now judging by his relaxed stance and the fact he at least looks concerned for me, i sling Freya on my shoulder, open the tent, and run to an open area turning away from the man enough that i have the barest margins of privacy, but not so far as so i can''t watch what the man is doing. Then undo my fly and release the floodgates. If the man feels slighted by me ignoring him, he doesn''t show it, he simply turns toward my tent to inspect more closely. Looking around, something feels off. I mean aside the rando cannibal-looking man. It''s not hard to place, the forest is wrong. The underbrush is much thicker than when I pulled up, the trees are wider, larger leaves, greener, the birds sound different. when you camp in the same area for years you know what sound the bird that wakes you up sounds like. this is like dozens of hawks screeching, it''s not overly loud, but the quantity is odd; a flock of Hawks? Unlikely. My campsite seems to be just as clear as it was when I set it up, despite the new surroundings. Everything seems to be where it should be, hell the firepit still has soot blasted all around it, and glass bottles, broken and whole, are still sitting in my impromptu skeet range. There''s a chill in the air as well, actual chill of late Fall. A chill in the air this high up in the mountains in the shade isn''t that weird but it feels like it''s supposed to be later, the ambiance of a different time of year. Christ, it smells different, pine replaced with another, still botanical scent, but not one I can place. Sweeter, like maple sap. Finished relieving myself i saunter to my truck and slide a case from the back, i pull out two slug shells and four buckshot, and load my shotgun, slugs first, five shells in the tube, one in the pipe. I down a water bottle, splash my face, and start brushing my teeth. The movement and noise draw my passive guest over to me were he stands and waits a comfortable distance away and watches as I clean the crowns in my face. He looks almost like he shuts down, like a machine until I finish, spit, rinse and turn to face him. I casually place my right hand on the grip of my pistol. I''m no murderer, im not planning on shooting the guy, i just want to prepare myself for all eventualities, y¡¯know. You don''t plan on getting in an accident, or getting cancer, but shit happens. I just want to make sure that if i can prevent someone from stabbing me with a 10 foot spear then im doing all I can to make sure it doesn''t happen. Besides it''s not even just that; it''s more a trait I''ve developed from the area I live in, my apartment is in a pretty bad neighborhood, so ive got in the habit of opening my door with a gun in my hand. Nothing personal, or psychotic. Right? Paranoia? Trust issues? No, I call it peace of mind. ¡°Susume ev, wasuwe Nunu.¡± the man says this, and does a slow half lunge, touching his chest with his freehand. Then returns to his relaxed stance. Looks like as much an introduction as i''ve ever seen. ¡°Err, I''m Vasco, uh Reese.¡± I say, similarly touching my chest with my freehand. The man, Nunu I guess, smiles and nods then, i can only presume he starts telling me his life story, since he doesn''t pause talking for more than the length of time it takes to refill his lungs for the next couple hours at least, despite the fact he¡¯s got to know i have no idea what he''s saying. I stood staring blankly for the first 15 minutes or so before I decided I didn''t want to camp in this spot anymore and started policing my camp. Why move? Well I don''t know where I am, and I don''t like that; and even if I find myself pretty close to my usual campsite, I''d rather be there than here. I need to get my bearings, find a road or something. I was sure I picked the spot I always go camping, I''ve come here for years, ever since my uncle found this spot, and sure I may have been a little¡­ emotional coming up, but I definitely knew where I was when I pulled up and set camp, despite what sister says the forest does not all look the same, and I''ve left my mark on my campsite, stuff nobody else would notice, like a decent sized branch missing from a tree I made testing a new hatchet, or my own little secluded squat spot, spottable from camp but you can''t see into unless you go around. Besides even if I didn''t camp in the right spot, I did camp the the right fucking ecosystem! Where the hell am i? I wasn''t that drunk right? No, no I set camp before I started drinking. Well, it doesn''t matter really, I''m already doing what I can to find where I am. Also, i don''t want random foreign cosplayers wandering through my camp, i doubt i have to say why. Sleeping roll, sleeping bag, tent, tarp, broken down, and tossed into the car. I grabbed my rake from my car, (if you don''t take a rake camping you really should) and cleaned up all the glass I could, only now realizing I didn''t really have a container to hold broken glass, plastic bags, sure, but you try carrying a plastic bag full of broken glass and don''t tell me how it went, because I already know, I literally have the scars to tell that story. I decided i''d bury the shards, (you should bring a shovel camping too) but Nunu, to my surprise, objected. He didn''t object the burying, I think, but throwing away the glass, he seemed really interested in keeping the shards, as well as the unbroken bottles, so I let him have at it, only then realizing he had an empty animal skin bag hanging from his loincloth at the back. He seemed positively extatic while gingerly placing the bottles and fractals in his bag. There was still excess, pieces too small to bother with, so i went ahead and buried that, then wrapped up cleaning camp, you know ¡®leave it better than you found it¡¯ and all that. Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Interrupting the riveting tale being told I interject with, ¡°Uh, well Nunu, i''m gonna go, ok? You don''t err, need a ride or something right?" Why am I asking him anything? The dude doesn''t understand a goddamn word I''m saying, God I''m stupid I could say ''ooga booga, ive got three balls, george bush did 4/20, fuck Bob Ross'' and the guy wouldn''t blink an eye¡­ Not that I''d ever say ''fuck Bob Ross.'' you don''t need someone to understand you if you say that, the universe knows and will get you back. Anyway, I repeat myself a few times, in various ways, and with many gestures. Nunu smiles and nods, despite the fact im certain he has no earthly idea what i''m trying to tell him. I get tired of charades and turn to get in my truck, which finally gets a reaction from him, and he starts speaking a bit faster than when talking earlier and gesturing in the direction behind him, clearly wanting me to go with him. God am i stupid? Braindead? Just plain naive? Because, am i really considering going with this guy? Im considering going with this guy. Why would I go with this guy? ¡°Susume Nacoo, seane bome taan¡± Nunu says, once again gesturing behind himself, once again a grin and a nod accompanying his weathered features. Goddamnit, i''m going with Nunu. im fucking driving though, im in no mood for a hike right now for so many reasons. ugh, so many. Besides, i just noticed the man doesn''t have shoes on. what poor crazy bastard traipses through a forest without shoes on? And I did say id give him a ride¡­ ugh. I''m hungry. Whew. ok. I wave in the same direction he was, and nod with a brisk non-smile. Opening the passenger door, i move to try herding the guy into the car like cattle, which proved unnecessary since the guy practically flew as he dropped his spear and hopped right onto the passenger seat. As soon as he sat down his attitude went from relaxed curiosity to full blown kid-the-night-before-christmas electrical excitement. Turning this way and that, and touching everything, all while exclaiming whenever he found something he liked; ¡®Susume Nacoo! Susume Nacoo! blah blah! warb warb! leedle leedle!.¡¯ and he liked fucking everything. The seat, mirrors, dashboard, carpet, floormat, roof, seatbelt, window, ¡®oh shit bar,¡¯ door, door handle, you get the picture. And again, touching everything. I try to calm myself while picking up his spear and straping it to the roof, then i remind myself i dont need to be so anal while walking to the drivers side, and finaly remind myself i always have disinfectant whipes while i place Freya in the back seat and go to sit down. He looks like he wanted to reach back to touch Freya like all my upholstery, but a glare and a shake of the head firmly deterres him. Zen, see? Cucumber like. Chill like a garage freezer. Smooth too, smooth like skippy. Im fine. Just woke up on the wrong side of the rock that was in my back all night. That''s all. Pff, yea, right. My head, my thoughts are like a puddle in the middle of a landfill, sloggy, putrid, thick soup of ideas and feelings and memories and i cant hold onto a single one, it''s all mixed; diluted into itself. My body feels like it''s following my heads lead as the ground underneath the soupy sludge, like years of compost, rotting, damp, just disgusting. It''s probably all in my head, I can''t actually smell like a landfill right? I just showered yesterday. No it smells like my car, and faintly like sweat, but it''s nowhere near as bad as i thought it was for a moment. No smell, but i still feel like shit. I turn the key, truck starts, readjust mirror, seatbelt, make sure im in four-wheel-drive, and turn to Nunu to see why the hell he just started freaking the fuck out. Where a moment ago Nunu was chattering and vibrating in excitement, now it looks like he''s panick yelping, and shivering in fear, like an eight year old in a haunted house. Thank god he''s not crying, that''s a step more than i can handle right now. Whew. I got this, I got this. ¡°Hey, Nunu¡­ Nunu yo man. Nu- fuck my life. HEY! HEY! SHUTTHEFUCKUP!¡± great. Now he''s whimpering. Sounds just like my grandpa''s old dog when you didn''t share your food; swear to god by sound alone you''d think the little asshole was getting beaten. That dog lived better than i do. No, im not jealous of a dog, shut up. ¡°Listen Nunu, we¡¯re fine, we¡¯re good, okay? You gotta stop screaming my man, take it down, you were at like defcon nine, you gotta bring it down to like a four ok? Hehe hoo hehe hoo, just breath.¡± It takes a moment but that more or less does the trick, once he imitates the ¡®he¡¯s and hoo¡¯s¡¯ he settles at a still jittery six and with wild eyes, the words fire out of his mouth like a jet-plane spitting air, ¡°S-sume Nac-coo sav-va meh burcurur-growowowow.¡± starting with a high pitched ¡®bur¡¯ and working to a low, growling ¡®grow¡¯ it''s pretty obvious he''s imitating my truck starting, which I guess is what set him off. Oh, boy he''s not¡­ is he? This guy might be¡­ uh¡­ special. High functioning? Early onset alzheimers? Plain obtuse? This is perfect, just what I need. Fucking fuckety fuckin perfect. ¡°Here, my man. Feel the dash. See? It''s just my, car we¡¯re fine. All''s good.¡± The fear visibly melts away once he feels the rumbling of the dashboard, and he chuckles ruefully to himself a little, before sitting back in the chair, still looking somewhat apprehensive, and a whole lot less energised. Thank god. ¡°Alright, off we go.¡± I say as I put the car in drive and slowly release the break, allowing the vehicle to creep along steadily across the, very noticeably, very uneven ground. Nunu''s excitement surfaces again, but he stays still, like a pot of water just a few degrees from boiling. As we coast along, a bit faster than jogging pace, Nunu tempers his still growing jubilance, and starts course correcting by pointing if i need to start going this way or that. It''s pretty easy to tell, but he isn''t taking me ¡®as the crow flies¡¯ it feels more like ¡®as the ant walks,¡¯ like he''s leading me back the exact way he , but found me. we¡¯re generally headed in the direction he first pointed, so i just hope its right and decide to play along for a few miles at least, to see if there''s anything to see. He also continues the one sided conversation we had while I was cleaning up my camp. In my heart I thank sweet baby Jesus for scaring some restraint into the man sitting next to me, because if he didn''t experience that terror he felt just awhile ago i get the feeling he¡¯d be utterly insufferable. It occurres to me, once again, that something is wrong. This time though, rather than the environment, or temperature, or wierd wildlife, or even the fact there''s a somewhat mentaly deficiant cannibal cosplayer in my front seat; no what''s wrong with this picture is me. It''s like I''m in a daze, I''m not myself. I think I''m a nice enough guy, but it''s not like me to disregard not knowing where the fuck I am to babysit some guy almost three times my age. One emergency at a time right? Don''t jump in the water to save someone if it just means there''ll be two corpses. It''s not like me to lose my temper because someone is having a panick attack next to me either. I''m usually the calm, the rock, the patient understanding type. I wake up in a forest I don''t know and am just okay with it? Admittedly I probably wouldn''t panick in that situation anyway, but I''d probably be peeved or, you know, concerned maybe. curious at least. Nothing: I''m a zombie right now, and I really really hate to admit it but it''s pretty obvious why. I left my copy of Dark Souls 3 at Mia''s house. Haha, naw I''m just playing; what it actually is, is that I''m emotionally crushed. I don''t know if we were going to spend the rest of our lives together but I was really happy with Mia. She was one of my closest friends. Couple classes together freshman year, and we''re friends, start sharing our social circles. Classes together gain sophomore, and we get closer, besties; start dating that summer, and boom steady going since. now that I think about it we did kinda start drifting once she went to university and I started working full time, but we still hung out together at least twice a week. We didn''t live that far apart, a 10 minute drive, plus texting and calling, practically joined at the hip I thought. Well, like I said things did change once we were apart more often than not, my "friends" and Mia seemed closer, and it felt like I was¡­ not being pushed out of the group but, like more of an outsider. at the time I figured it was inevitable since I was the only one who didn''t go straight to college out of highschool with everyone. Our interests started changing a bit, she wanted to go out more, I wanted to stay in more, it''s hard wanting to stay away from home when you''re away from it all day. But we rarely fought, spats and little shit that was forgotten about later that day more often than not, and we''ve always done that, so it was hardly red flag behavior. I never would''ve thought, this is how it''d end. Cheating? I might''ve seen us splitting over a debate about Ben and Jerry''s flavors, but cheating? It''s arrogant to say but we should''ve been above that, it''s just-... Is¡­ is that cow a sheep? A five foot tall sheep? A herd of cow sized sheep? "Uama neva Susuma Nacoo." Nunu pulls my attention from the herd of absolute units and points to what looks like a pile of boulders about a quarter mile away, as we get closer I can see people in the distance, and silently praise myself for a successful first babysitting venture. Ch. 3 Social Contract The radio clock says it''s been about a 20 minute drive and we were going about 10 miles per hour, what is that? Two miles? What''s the formula? Distance is rate times time? 200? 200 what? That doesn''t make sense. Does it already take units of measurement into account? Ugh, I don''t remember, thanks American public schooling system for actually covering something practical for like one week before moving on. Just enough time to know what we''re doing but not enough to commit it to long term memory. Well not my long term memory. Fuckin bullshit bandaid solutions, ''dont teach the kids so they know, teach them so they pass the exam.'' Maybe I''m just dumb. I wasn''t a bad student but math was never a strong point for me, I had a hard time remembering and applying the right formula. Also fuck fractions. Well, all I really need to know is that I''m actually pretty close to where I woke up, few miles max, couple miles minimum, and well far enough I wasn''t breaking any laws by firing a gun within x amount of yards of a residence, booya. This... village, I guess, Nunu pointed out is about 300 yards out from the treeline and looks about the size of five fast food restaurants, if you built them in a close clump. An odd way to describe the size, I know, but it''s what comes to mind. What the hell I''m really concerned about is why is there a bunch of people living in an outcropping of boulders in the middle of a national forest? I didn''t accidentally drive onto a reservation did I? If I did the what kinda Native Americans are they? There aren''t any uncontacted tribes in America are there? Maybe it''s some sort of traditional ceremony? I''d feel pretty fuckin bad if Im about to drive my truck through a Native American ceremony. Nunu seemed unconcerned, so I''ll just park on the outskirts of the place and hope no-one calls a tow truck, heh. Good luck getting reception, can''t even get my radio to work. Driving through the scattering flock of Giga sheep we pull up on two rows of people lined one in front of the other. Maybe 30 in front and 10 in the line behind them. The first line is made up of men in, more or less, the same state of dress and gear as Nunu here; loincloth, body paint, tattoo, hair in varying states, mostly it''s fairly long, but a few are cut short or bald. A few have animal pelts adorning them, either draped across their shoulders, or replacing the loincloth in favor of a type of pelt skirt thing. Positively I note, there are no nudists in the first line. All the men are standing casually, like when I first saw Nunu; also like Nunu almost all of them are armed with 10 foot spears, if they don''t have spears they have¡­ swords? What the fuck? If they don''t have swords they have¡­ sticks? What the fuck? Not thick club-like caveman sticks but like half-inch thick toe-to-hip height sticks. Sticks I''d pass if I were a kid looking for something to use as an imaginary Excalibur to kill waves of imaginary foes, for fear they''d snap in twine mid battle. As for the other line, all female, they each held fruit in their left hands, an apple maybe, and a rock in the right. They''re all dressed in what can be best described as a toga, but differently colored in earthy hues and all have unique patterns on them some simple, others more complex. None of them had hair shorter than their shoulder, a few even having hair long enough they have it wrapped around their waists. Most of them also stood in a casual manner, maybe even an uncaring one, aside from one who held nothing and looked to be among the oldest here; standing behind the line of men, but still somehow drawing my eyes to her while I shamelessly scan the people arrayed in front of me. I pull to a stop and throw it in park, unbuckle, cut the engine, and watch as Nunu tentatively presses on different parts of his side door and window with a look of consternation. Sighing as I get his attention, then flicking my door handle and gesturing at his, he makes the connection and starts fiddling with his doors, eventually managing to crack the door open and exclaiming in triumph. As the door opened the group in front of us collectively took a step back, a few men almost brought their weapons to bear, and a couple of the women cocked their hands back, ready to throw their rocks. Then Nunu jumped out, animated and jubile, talking a mile a minute, and the scene changed in an instant. Smiles blossomed across their faces and low excited murmur sparked through the columns. I can go now right? This whole thing is pretty uncomfortable for me. The closest feeling I can describe this as is when you see a friend interact with their work friends, so you have to stand around and wait while people who know each other talk about things you aren''t quite sure of. I don''t even know who this guy is, i wish social obligations didn¡¯t exist. I gotta unstrap Nunus spear too, i don¡¯t think he noticed he dropped it earlier¡­ Why do these people have spears? Where do you even get a spear? I kinda want a spear now, don''t know what I''d use it for though. Eh, people buy stupid shit all the time, maybe theres a layaway type deal too, plus i can use it to impress all the new friends im going to have to make in the near future. might be a bit hard to work into a conversation though, now that I think about it. Grabbing Freya and throwing the sling over my left shoulder, I open the door and get out of my car. Noticing the movement, a few of the people surrounding Nunu turn to me. A few lose the easy grins on their faces and replace it with looks of slight concern, and others look at me near the same way they look at Nunu, with a small grin. ignoring them, i start unstrapping Nunus spear from my trucks roof. Before I finish I notice Nunu started bringing the group he was talking with over to me. Clamoring down with the spear, I hand it over and stand in a bored daze as Nunu starts once again speaking incomprehensibly with surprised joy in his tone, the people around him also once again start muttering amongst themselves, but now that they¡¯re closer i confirm that no-ones speaking english. weirder still, Nunu doesn''t really sound like he''s speaking the same language as everyone else, or maybe he''s got a speech impediment? He kinda sounds like someone born deaf and learned how to speak, not quite like that, but he seems to drag out his words a bit longer than everyone else. ¡°Anyone speak english here? No? Alright. Nunu i''m gonna take off, i gotta find a new campsite soon. Far away from y¡¯all. Far away from anyone. Maybe don''t walk up on people sleeping in the middle of the woods next time, you never know what weirdos you might meet. Like you apparently. Anyway, uh, bye.¡± I reach out for a handshake and regret it, as Nunu grips my wrist with surprising strength and starts leading me to the boulders, as we pass the people that were behind Nunu, the group of women come forward and hand me the fruits they were holding, and still a little shocked by Nunu grabbing me i hold the fruits being handed to me in my left arm. I uttered something like, ¡°hey, what, whoa man, leggo. Hey wh- no i can''t take these, oh your giving me more. Seriously i don''t want your apples. Ah fuck at least put em in a bag or something, jesus i cant hold them all. Ah, goddamnit im not picking those up.¡± Being lead to one of the boulders in the center of the group of boulders I noticed more people about, more men and women, some kids; the place looked lived in, but primitive, like something out of a history book. I remember a time way back in like, third grade my class went on a field trip to a town of pilgrim reenactors. They lived just like people in the 1600¡¯s right down from the handmade clothes, the buildings to the food they cooked, a tall fence surrounding the town, the tools, hell they talked in an odd manner, unless you asked the tourguide to explain something. Is that it? A town of reenactors? Maybe the Native American equivalent of the Amish. This place if fucking wierd and i so am not in the mood to deal with this right now. Nunu probably just wants to take me to someone who can talk to me and say thanks for dropping him off or something, which is fine or whatever but i really wish he¡¯d just forget it, i know i will. Nunu, who doesn''t have his spear again, leads me inside one of the boulders and I take a moment to think of how someone would go about hollowing out a near two story boulder, or why you would anyway, teepees are supposed to be sufficient protection from the elements for the most part, right? Or at least much easier to make than it would be to hollow out a giant fucking rock. Right? Well, what the fuck do i know, i guess. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. Nunu gestures for me to sit on the ground, there seems to be a small ocean of animal pelts covering the entire floor, except far side of the rock im standing in, where there sits a fire pit, and the pelt ocean surrounds like the cape of a coastline. I notice small vent holes cut into the wall by the firepit, as well as a large hole in the roof. I move to one of the walls and try to sit down but i have a hard time of it since my arms are full and Freya is hanging off my shoulder, so I drop the apples down next to where i''m going to sit and set Freya leaning against the wall, and set my ass on the carpet. Nunu, satisfied i''m planted on the ground holds his hand out in a, ¡®stay. Good boy.¡¯ manner and leaves me alone in Patrick Star''s home. Looking around I notice the place is pretty barren, but i don''t really know what i expected, deer skulls and cave paintings i guess, nothing like that though, just the pelts, fireplace, and a pretty confused and fairly annoyed late-teen with a shotgun and some new targets lying on the ground next to him. I don''t wait long, just a few minutes, and a matronly looking woman, maybe in her 50¡¯s, walks in and moves to the center of the room. She¡¯s followed by the even older woman I saw with the welcoming party who follows her to the middle and Nunu, sits down by the door; still without his spear, why does he even have one, seriously? I move to stand but the older woman holds out a hand and says , ¡°pokve funoo¡± so i stay seated. The matronly woman touches a hand to her chest and says ¡°Susume ev, wasuwe Vema.¡± then gestures to the older woman and continues, ¡°co wa ev, wasuwe Cha. bouma woneke shawa-eh.¡± ¡°Ah, eh, haa. Hi, Im Vasco Reese, erm, wass-oo-way Vasco. Nice to meet you, I guess, even though you don''t know what I''m saying either do you?¡± She stares for a moment, then holds a hand open to the older woman, Cha, who reaches into a satchel she''s carrying and pulls out a small bottle, about 5 Hour Energy sized and hands it to Vema. Vema inspects it, uncorkes it, and hands it to me. Call me paranoid but my first thought was ¡®don''t drink stuff strangers hand you, always get your own drinks¡¯, my second thought was ¡®eh, what¡¯ve you got to lose?¡¯ and my third was ¡®more than these fuckers.¡¯ I grab the bottle and inspect it myself. Made out of clay, or ceramic, the only deviation from the spherical body is the neck of the bottle. Honestly it''s a little too spherical, too symmetrical, if you told me this thing was made without proper tools I would have a hard time believing it, but i suppose if your job was making little bottles all day every day you¡¯d get pretty good at it. but, considering the spears and swords i get a feeling, Amish Natives or not, someone here has a connection to proper civilisation, and weather or not we¡¯re in the woods this is an American forrest so someone has to speak english here. Well, I don''t really need to speak to anyone here, if I just phone it in and do what these people want for a little i can probably leave pretty soon. No way they¡¯re gonna keep me past lunch; just a little while then i never have to see any of them again, and certainly not any other person for at least five more days. I sniff the neck of the bottle and decide its a tolerable scent, like peaches, leaves, and a dash of sulfur, and uplift the bottle over my mouth and try not to taste it by flinging the fluid straight down the back of my throat, a good trick for trying to down rotgut liquor faster than the other people in the room; does not help the next day, however. there is no helping the next day. Of course, I taste it anyway, it''s a lot like it smells, but more bitter and cools my throat like cough medicine; it''s a flavor a lot of people could get used to, I think. I say ¡®thanks for the drink¡¯ and hand the bottle back, and after Vema takes it we sit in uncomfortable silence. Uncomfortable for me at least, all three other occupants seem perfectly content just sitting, Vema with her eyes closed, Cha stares at me, silently judging, i guess, and Nunu grins and stares between me and the two others sort of like a pet waiting for its master to call it over for scritches and a treat. I remember i have fruit with me and grab one of the apples next to me and bring it to my mouth, before I take a bite though, I realize it''s not an apple. inspecting it doesn''t help, and i can only conclude i''ve never seen this fruit before. it''s got a dark purple skin, close to the red of an apple, and a lemon shape, but a bit larger than an apple in size and gives off a faintly sour smell. I slowly bring it to my mouth, while looking at Nunu to see if im supposed to peel it or something, and when he doesn''t stop me, I take a bite. The skin tastes tart, and the meat of the fruit, what''s the term? Exo, ecto, meso? Mesocarp? Anyway, the meat of the fruit does taste sour, but it''s very mild, and there are seeds like watermelon, but smaller, just placed all over in the fruit. I get about three quarters into the fruit when Vera, no um, Vema? When Vema says, ¡°Well, that should be about long enough.¡± except she didn''t say it in english, but whatever language she was speaking before, I just understood it for some reason. ¡°Hey, what the hell, why can i understand you? If this is some sort of prank you guys need to learn some chill, we¡¯re in the middle of nowhere, this is way to elaborate to be pulling shit like this this far away from anywhere; if you must fuck with people in the woods all you gotta do is play bigfoot or howl at the moon or some shit, making a rock village and finding a heard of sheep with giantism, and getting a bunch of exotic fruit is a bit extreem.¡± ¡°Young man Vasco, (Susume Vas-coo) i cannot understand the tongue you speak, so i ask you listen, and nod or shake your head to answer questions asked of you. Do you understand?¡± Vema asks while still speaking her language, and very confused by the situation i nod in assent. ¡°Very good. Young man Vasco are you an associate of Merchant Dane?¡± I shake my head. ¡°Are you from Town PakeCrest?¡± I shake my head. She frowns. ¡°Young Man Vasco, are you aware of the accord my village and Town PakeCrest have agreed to?¡± I shake my head. Her frown deepens. ¡°Chieftain Vema, Boy Vasco has no reason to be in The Wood, ignorance or no he has trespassed on land we are entitled to, no-one else but us. We have been wronged and as such we have no need to follow tradition here, rather a punishment would be more appropriate in this instance.¡± Che¡­ Cha throws her opinion in what I can only assume is a conversation she was having with the voices in her head, because even if i did stumble on a reservation, it damn sure ain''t illegal for me to be here. Maybe. Honestly im not familiar with reservation laws, but i am pretty sure at least. ¡°Yaung man Nacoo is good man, The Wood confuse, no problems. Add he has intreshing equipment. Send Yang Man away, Mercha Dan visit soon, he take Yaung Man Nacoo.¡± Nunu chimes in with a grin and nod like he just said ¡®we should solve world hunger by airdropping crates of burgers everywhere.¡¯ very helpful. Vema stares at me for a moment, then starts ¡°Young Man Vasco, would you like to stay as one of our peoples?¡± I give a ¡®what the hell?¡¯ look and shake my head, ¡°Would you like to leave to PakeCrest with Merchant Dane?¡± I shake my head. ¡°Where does Young Man Vasco wish to go?¡± I hesitantly lift my hand and point in the direction Nunu and i drove up in. nobody in the room looks happy at my answer. ¡°Young Man Vasco, you wish to enter The Wood, however, The Wood is sacred, only our people are permitted to use it, else incur The Woods anger, you may join us if you wish, you have proven your bravery at the least, but we cannot give you leave to go into the forest without joining us, else we be punished in your stead.¡± What the hell? If i saw this offer on my computer, it would be spam. Proven my bravery? I just woke up. This seems fucking sketchy, and once more im reminded of how little i want to deal with the bullshit of any other human being right now. Maybe I can go around or something, bound to be a road somewhere. I point to the forest and wave my hands around trying to get the point I want to go around across. It seems to work. ¡°Young man Vasco, going around is an option but the trip is 15 days long for the swiftest among us perhaps you can leave back to where you came from, there is nothing farther into The Wood but death for those who don''t belong.¡± go back where I came from, eh? Thats WHat iM trYinG tO Do yOu AbSolUte PaREnT. Someone peeks their head through the doorway and says something to Nunu, who turns to Vema and says ¡°Chieftain Vama, Mercha Dan arrive soon, we ask him take Young Man Nacoo.¡± Fuck, i¡¯ll just follow this Dane guy for a mile and backtrack to the woods, only reason i dont leave to the forrest right now is some social obligation to not be a douche outright to people. I really wish I''d camped somewhere else right now. The fruit was good though, maybe I can get some more before I leave? Ch. 4 Big Iron ¡°Young Man Vasco, Pahuvwa Nunu has much influence concerning how we handle newcomers to the village. It seems he does not intend to sway you to stay as one of us. As i can only infer as to why, even after bringing you here, he would do this i will defer to his judgment and plea you leave with Merchant Dane as well.¡± Vema continues our conversation after the interruption without a hitch, only this time she doesn''t want me around because Nunu asks politely yet firmly that I leave with Dane. Patriarchy! Pfft haha. What a joke. Well, it doest really matter I intended on following this Dane guy for a little ways anyway; if not to backtrack to a spot these people couldn''t see me enter the forest, then so i could ask the guy what the hell is going on here. At the very least to get directions to the nearest road. ¡°Cheiftai Vama, respecfully, I would be overjoy if Yaung Man Nacoo stay in village, but i think Yaung Man Nacoo be happier in town. Yaung Man Nacoo live in comfort even in The Wood, Yaung Man must be very important man, not born to stay here, but destine to accomplish many wondrous feat.¡± Nunu not only defends my character, but also paints me as something akin to a storybook hero with a destiny and everything. That gives me an ¡®awe shucks¡¯ moment in my gut before i remember i don¡¯t know this dude, and he¡¯s blowing smoke out his ass. ¡®Destiny¡¯ huh? Now I''m almost certain this whole ¡°village¡± is a scam of some sort, or maybe a cult or something. Worse, they could all actually believe the shit they¡¯re telling me, if that were the case i can''t get out of this place fast enough. I can accept liars, thieves, pariahs, or all other sorts of low down degenerates; my cynicism allows that. What I can''t accept is idiocy , that shit don''t slide. Spend all of an hour with me and already worked out I''m some easy mark? That I even have anything someone would want? Whew, Zen man. what the hell am I so upset over? These people haven''t wronged me. My God I''m goddamn Looney Toons, section 8, took funny pills this morning. Why am I so on edge? This can''t just be a bad breakup, something''s wrong with me, I''m very much not myself. Maybe I should cut this trip short and see a psychologist or something, if I keep this up I''ll have an aneurysm at 25. Jesus wouldn''t that be a way to go? No, no I just need time away from people, that was the point of driving up here even without anyone else, it wasn''t just avoiding having the po-po called on me in front of my sister''s house, I knew I needed to be away from people, and all I''ve had was a few hours tops. I''ll give myself another day or two to chill a bit before I have myself committed to an asylum. Let''s just stick this out, just a little longer, then sweet sweet isolation. "Well then. Young Man Vasco, the offer to join us still stands. However, Young Man Vasco, I still would recommend leaving with Merchant Dane as per Pahuvwa Nunu''s recommendation, his intuition is very sharp. The choice is yours Young man Vasco." Why would I not have a choice? They''re probably just being dramatic, that''s like a line out of a movie. I''m not sure how to mine ''I''ll go with Dane'' so I just point at the ground and shake my head vigorously. Nunu wears a sad smile at my answer, Vema also grimaces just barely for a split second and nods, and Cha-Cha real smooth has had her eyes closed and has been sitting still since Nunu relayed that Dane was near. Weird lady. Why do they seem a little down I decided to leave? They where practically saying get lost a moment ago. I should just stop trying to figure these people out, I just keep coming up with questions that have answers I probably don''t really care about. This is just surface curiosity no need to sate it. "Well, Young Man Vasco it seems you wish to leave? Well then, let''s prepare so you can properly meet Merchant Dane. He is a kind man but not a naive one, you must prove somewhat that you mean him no ill intent before he agrees to escort you anywhere." Vema stands, Nunu stands, I grab Freya and stand, Cha finally opens her eyes and says, "Dane is within attack range Chieftain Vema. There is nothing unusual in the caravan." "We are not attacking Merchant Dane Advisor Cha. Please refrain from making such tasteless jokes in front of guests in the future." "Of course Chieftain." Cha says in a decidedly unrepentant manner. "Let''s head out to greet Merchant Dane then." Vema leaves first, then Nunu, Cha stares at me a moment then gets up and follows. I bend down and grab a few fruit I dropped earlier and stumble out of the rock room. Fighting off temporary blindness from leaving the relatively dark shelter to the pretty fucking bright mid-day sun, I squint and notice nobody was waiting for me to leave the room. The trio I was just with are walking to the other end of the village that I haven''t seen yet, from here I see a mob of the villagers crowded on the outskirts of the village, in a similar pattern to when I pulled up earlier. Taking a bite out of one of the fruit, I start toward the welcoming committee and look around a bit. It''s just more of the same, but I notice not everyone went to greet Dane, some people are still in the village doing miscellaneous tasks, preparing meals, babysitting, just living peacefully, it actually seems pretty nice, but I gotta say I like modern comforts too much to really want to live mountain man style. I¡¯ve heard you could live in relative comfort like that, and living out in nature sounds really wonderful to be honest, but it''s more a retirement plan than how I want to spend my life. There''s still a lot of life to live among civilization for me, even with all the bullshit and heartache, still a lot to look forward to even with the pain. Oh god im such an edgelord. Yep, still a lot of life for me haha. See what just like a minute of some time alone and with a fairly clear head can do? I feel better already. Walking up behind the two lines of people waiting in greeting for Dane, Nunu, Vema, and Cha stand in front of the two lines and start their greeting for the guy rolling up. The two lines are in the same configuration as when I showed up, with rocks and all. Heh, guess im not important enough to have the chieftain greet me out front, not that they knew who I was or that i care; just an observation. Dane, i guess, rolls up not in a truck, or van, or car, but an honest-to-god horse drawn carriage only its not horsedrawn, but pulled by¡­ dogs? Two fucking huge dogs, big as¡­ big as the mondo sheep, maybe bigger, and mean looking like a couple bulldogs but with a long snout; i dont think they are actually that breed but thats as close a comparison i could make. God they¡¯ve got to be in a record book of some kind, I''ve never heard of a dog getting anywhere near this big, and here are two concept shattering monsters, what in creation are them ahmish feeding their animals? If livestock companies find out about this place there''s gonna be a hostile takeover, holy hell. The carriage is flanked on both sides by one rider per side and followed by one more, so four people total far as I can tell. The riders are mounted on actual horses, but, like, extremely beefy horses, like if the horse was a human athlete, they would probably get kicked out of their profession for substance abuse. Wearing something that came out of a renaissance fair Dane, i assume, stands from his cart and opens his arms wide in greeting, then shouts something in another language I don''t recognize, again, oh how I miss people who know english. Whatever he said is in a different language of the Nunu and gang, but the trio up front seem unconcerned and Vema says something along the lines of, ¡®Welcome Merchant Dane, you are most certainly blessed blah blah,¡¯ and my mood is ruined again. I can''t really be bothered to listen to what they¡¯re saying since im just out of earshot, well i can hear them but cant make out what''s being said. Dane doesn''t really react to what Vema says as he jumps off his carriage, reaches into a canvas bag slung over his shoulder, and produces a glass vial about palm seize. Cha does the same with her bag but with an identical bottle they gave me earlier and walks over to Dane where they where they exchange them; Dane immediately downs his, and Cha brings the bottle she got to Vema, who also upends it immediately. The people Dane brought with him dismount and start unloading the carriage, starting with an empty crate which the women group right in front of me walk over to and place the fruit they carry into. The group of four followed the unloaders and without talking Dane and Vema point and gesture to decide what leaves the carriage. A few minutes go by in relative silence before Dane and Vema start talking, each speaking their own language, but obviously understanding each other and I can''t help but wonder what hudoo-vudoo-chicken-foot-and-newt-eye black magic bullshit they crammed in those bottles. Where the fuck am i? A different forest, random ancient village with spears and shit, giant sheep, giant dogs, prairie schooners, weird languages, cosplayers. Did i walk into Narnia? This is some type of prank right? I could use a drink, or a good thwack from the forget-me-stick. Whew just stick it out Vas, just a little longer and you can just ride on out of Toon Town, just a bit longer. Vema gives a shout, ¡°You group, grab the supplies to trade, and you lot prepare a meal for Merchant Dane and his company, Young Man Vasco, come over and introduce yourself, Merchant Dane has agreed to escort you back to PakeCrest.¡± she gets the men moving, then the women, and then I get called over like a kid being told to hug a relative they never see. I comply. Walking up, I take a closer look at Dane; couple inches shorter than myself, muscular guy, trimmed beard and swept back red hair, friendly face, maybe mid 40s, like i said earlier, renaissance like clothes, his bag and a dagger hanging off the belt wrapped around his waist, and jewelry, mostly pretty simple silver rings a wristband and a pretty thick necklace. I tap my chest and say ¡°Im Vasco Reese, and you don''t speak english either i''m guessing, right? Of course not. Ooga booga, i have three testicles, Fallout 76 is the best in the series, and world peace is an attainable goal. Nice to meet you, ginger boy.¡± ¡°Cranke, froma dah, Dane Crestfo, bouha jehe.¡± Dane says while swiping his hands on his chest and doing jazz hands at eye level for a second. Probably another greeting, or i should be insulted; I don''t know for certain and don''t really feel like i could really be offended by someone who casually jazz hands at people. I stand awkwardly for a few seconds and say, ¡°okay, i''m going to see if they¡¯re making food for me too, see ya when we head out.¡± and turn to leave as the first men who left to get their trade goods, start coming back. Dane shouts something in a teasing tone of voice and I ignore whatever it was he said as I head to the boulder i saw the women enter. Before entering the rock i look back and notice he and Vema are back to discussing whatever it was they were talking about, haggling if i had to guess. Feeling kinda like I threw my ¡®don''t be a douche¡¯ rule out the window, I enter the boulder. The place had eight people already in here and it did feel like its starting a bit cramped in here, so i found the most isolated area and sit there, to watch what grub is being made. The women in the tent didn''t seem to mind me entering, or making myself comfortable, so I feel my pockets for my phone to listen to some music while I wait, only to realize I left it in my truck and, being as lazy as I am, decided to forget it for now. I don''t recognize the food being made, some kinda stir fry i guess, i''m not sure, I was never much of a cook, mostly just pasta and eggs, I learned a bit but real simple meals, so I didn''t have to eat fast food all the time, steak and potatoes you know? Not that whatever they¡¯re cooking looks particularly involved, just chopping some stuff up and tossing it in, looks like. It does look, and smell pretty good though, very, i''m not sure, colorful scent? After what feels like quite some time Cha enters the room and the cooking wraps up; she looks to me and calls me out of the room. Outside there are a few crates placed in a circle with Vema, Nunu, Dane, and his men sitting around, with two crates left open, probably for me and Cha. I go to sit, and once again no one stops me, Cha does the same a short moment after me. The women from the boulder come out like a storm, placing bowls filled with their concoction in everyone''s hands, then disappear just as fast, then after a few short words from Dane, everyone starts on their meal. They eat with their bare hands apparently. Eating with your hands isn''t really a strange concept right? Pizza, burritos, that stuff, but I''ve never eaten stir fry with my hands before, it ain''t really finger food y¡¯know? But whatever, when in Rome right? Digging in, the taste is a lot like its smell, colorful, zesty, real active flavor i guess you''d say. I recognize the fruit that seems to float all over this place in the meal as well as unidentified chunks of meat, and some sort of gravy or sauce, yup real finger food mhmm. Dane says something to me and Vema translates, ¡°Young Man Vasco, Merchant Dane says you¡¯ll depart shortly after your meals. It''s a shame he does not wish to stay awhile longer, but townsfolk are always busy it seems.¡± I nod in acknowledgement, prompting Dane to say something, once again in a teasing tone prompting chuckles from a few in the circle, i choose to ignore Mr. Jazz Hands again and work on finishing my brunch. Our meal continues in relative silence, with each respective group chatting quietly among themselves, and im reminded once again of how i probably won''t be able to just chat casually with my friends anymore now that this drama is sure to make everyone takes sides, and since I''m the only one not in college with the rest of them i almost certainly already drew the short straw without even knowing we were playing. This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. A deep groaning rumble starts to shake the ground and our group immediately quiets down as we all turn to face where it sounded like it came from, that is to say The Woods direction. Something that sounds like deep, deep howling starts, and it takes a moment for me to realize its the giant dogs that were pulling Danes cart. One of Danes men stands and runs to the dogs as many of the villagers do the same, but in the opposite direction, toward the rumble. ¡°Prepare for retribution! The Wood is sending its requital for todays tresspasses! Be stout pahuvakal, and know no fear!¡± the normally even spoken Vema shouts as the men and women of the village scramble about, most straight to the rumble area, and some throughout the village. Aside from the few of us in this circle everyone runs with purpose. ¡°Merchant Dane, Young Man Vasco, i suggest you wait by your Carriage while we take on this assault. I apologize for this incident, and hope it won''t affect our mutually beneficial relationship we¡¯ve courted until now.¡± Dane responds but I¡¯m unsure of what he says, I think it was an affirmative response though, and he and his men move toward his carriage while Vema, Nunu, and Cha go the other way. I remember my truck is parked where the rumble came from, and make my way over to it. I hear Dane shout something at me, not teasing this time, but urgency in his voice, I ignore him and start into a jog to get to my vehicle faster. As I pass the village trio Nunu also starts shouting at me ¡®Vacoo its dangerous, you¡¯ve already proven yourself, we are prepared for The Woods wraith¡¯ and so on but I don''t really care what he''s saying, my truck aint falling in a sinkhole, no fucking way. As I run up to the edge of the village i see the villagers lined up in greeting again, though they¡¯re outside the village this time, about a quarter way between the village and the forest. also, this time they¡¯re tense, they have a very different mood about them, where they had relaxed caution when I came here, and faint excitement for when Dane stopped in, now they seem serious, like when a fireman gets a call on an emergency, all these people ready for an emergency. I notice there¡¯s no sinkhole nearby and while relieved my car didn''t get swallowed by the very earth it sat i can''t help but also feel curious about what''s got these previously calm and easygoing people so tense, so I walk my way over to their lines. On the way I see the women aren''t carrying fruit this time, but either rocks or arrows. All the men''s weapons are drawn and the people carrying sticks hold them with their arm cocked back, one stick held firmly in the palm, and one held by one finger above the knuckles holding the stick in the palm, and it occurs to me they use leverage from the stick in the palm to launch the other. Ingenious, just frickin cool, just chuck the fuckin arrow with another stick, hell yea. While i was thinking about whether or not to ask Vema or Nunu if i could bum an arrow chucker before i go, something breaks the forests treeline. Somethings actually, about 15 somethings. From here they look somewhat like beetles with sizes from golden retriever to one of those little electric toy cars kids can ride in, and all of them are making a beeline straight here to the village, in the corner of my eye I see the slowest of the mondo sheep scampering away from the forest and making a distinctly un sheeplike sound; like a ¡®roo roo¡¯ noise. It takes a comical amount of time watching the bug like things scamper across the field but soon enough they get within range of the arrow chuckers, who waste no time before flinging arrow after arrow at the B.O.U.S.¡¯s. The thing about it is, there aren¡¯t a lot of arrow chuckers, maybe five, and while they are doing an admirable job throwing as fast as they can, which is a considerable amount, they miss quite often, and when they do hit it looks like the arrows just bounce right off. I see a couple of the bug things with arrows stuck in ''em, but they dont seem quite bothered. About 50 meters away now and closing, and I decide even if I''m not supposed to help out, its a lot safer to blast something that''s charging you with a shotgun then it is to stab it with a spear. I unsling Freya and pull her stock to my shoulder, then line the bead on the end of my barrel at the closest beetle thing. Then I shout, "Oh my God! They''re coming right for us!" For legal reasons and squeeze the trigger, eliciting a thunderclap and the familiar shove of recoil. The back half of the beetle disintegrates like the bottles I was shooting last night, and it hits the ground, creating a bur a foot behind where the momentum ends and the corpse rests still. A loud continuous clicking starts from the other beetles as I rack Freya, loading another shell in the breech, and line up the next shot. When I fired the first round the villagers next to me jumped in surprise, but overall they kept calm and continued either leveling spears at the incoming threat, or chucking arrows, which were now hitting pretty accurately and causing noticeable damage to the beetles struck multiple times. As for the beetles, while obviously pissed one of their own kicked it, they stay the same pace, and orientation while charging, aside the injured ones, who were running slower than the others. Sighting the next closest uninjured beetle, once again I squeeze, this time the beetle drops with no disintegration. Now the beetles are what I''d call close, maybe half the distance when I opened fire. The women holding rocks start pelting the beetles, and I see cracks on the majority of shells that get hit, almost all the beetles now either are cracked or have arrows stuck in them. Them chicks really have and arm huh? A few of the heavily injured ones slow to a crawl or keel over outright, but I notice if they are alive, they still keep clicking until the life bleeds out of them. I decide I don''t need to be so certain of my shots anymore as I once again rack the slide and shoulder Freya. I fire three rounds near as fast as I can chamber cartridges firing almost entirely on instinct and somehow manage to at least down four of them, if not outright turn them into gore confetti like some kind of horror B movie¡¯s special effects. The last shell really did devastating damage for some reason. Between my efforts and the villagers, only five beetles remain relatively uninjured, but now we are in their range too. Two beetles continue the charge on the villagers, and three move to gang up on me, my manly charms prove too alluring i guess, or the fact I neutralized more than the other 30 people defending combined. It doesn''t matter, they may be close but all it takes for me to stop them is a pump from my forearm, and a squeeze of a finger, which i do once more, the kick from the recoil much firmer than the previous shots, but still manageable, the projectile popping the lead beetle like a balloon, and severing the left forelegs of the beetle behind it, as well as spewing black sludge in all directions, all that''s left is the top of the carapace a foot or so away from where it got hit, with ¡®meat¡¯ chunks dangling from the inside of it like beef hanging in a slaughterhouse. The newly made cripple crashes into the ground, but promptly starts clamoring around, while trying to get its bearings with its missing limbs. As that happens the one trailing scampers past its comrad, still dead set on¡­ i don''t know impaling me or something, maybe nibbling on my ankles, and he makes it within five meters. I rack Freya and level her business end at the last Herbie, then i squeeze. Click. Oh shit. Empy? Short stroke? Rack it again? Run away? The beetle splits and doubles in size. The beetle has wings. An icy chill blossoms from my lower back, and works its way through my limbs and up my spine. I fucking hate when bugs have wings. The beetle zooms at me, and I remember a time years ago in elementary school when the gym teacher participated in a game of dodgeball, but for the other team. Haha a kid named Jake had to go to the nurse that day, since he got a bloody nose when another kid named Zackery pegged him in the face. My memory is really fuzzy thinking about something so long ago, but I don''t think Mr. Anderson, our gym teacher, actually hit any of the kids when he threw, he only got kids out by catching their throws, but by god when he threw one of those rubber balls he put the fear of god in us, they fucking whistled going by our little heads; god Mr. Anderson was cool. The beetle didn''t whistle flying at me. It fucking clapped at 2,000 beats per minute. Impossibly loud clapping, that seemed like a contestant to challenge if my gun was louder than its wings. The beetle flies almost faster than I can track, and faster than I can react, it crashes into my chest knocking me flat on my ass, and leaving me gasping for air like a fish on a boat deck. Panic sets in as i struggle for breath, all i need is a mouthful to tide me over until I can breath again, but my own body denies me as I start to writhe and gulp in an effort to will oxygen into my lungs. I notice, as my vision starts going black, the beetle landed on its back, but has already almost righted itself. Then it''s over. Just like that, I can breathe again, and for a moment that elation is all i can think of. Then I feel the weight of a Mastiff seized beetle step on my leg and panic threatens to take the reins again as I thrust my left hand on the beetles head in an attempt to keep it from anything truly vital. Damn this thing is strong, and fucking duisgusting. Close ups of bugs in documentries and stuff have always been pretty fucking gross, y¡¯know? But let me tell you, looking one face to face is even worse, lifeless even while moving erratically, its mandibles vibrating, revealing they are the source of the clacking noise, and legs try to strip my own legs of their skin, black in color and a sheen on it like its been polished, its chittan feels like a rock that''s just barely pliant, like hard plastic, and the smell, eugh, musky, oily, very unpleasant. The beetle starts inching forward to my chest, my neck, and suddenly im calm, everything is fine, my chest is in pain and almost certainly bruised, there''s some previously unnoticed pain mirrored on the outside of both sets of ribs, new surface scratches travel up my legs by the second, and my arm is still straining behind the force of the giant bug, but for some reason, i may as well be sitting on the couch at home for how unconcerned i am. I start laughing. Its fucking hilarious. Everything. Ever since i woke up this morning nothing¡¯s felt right. No. The moment that SUV pulled up i''ve been in a spiral of madness, i dont know whats happening anymore. What chain of events starts with a breakup and ends with me being eaten by one of the world''s 15 biggest bugs? How is that a domino effect? This joke is so bad it goes right back to being one of the most hysterical things I''ve ever experienced in my life. And you know what tops even that? I have another fucking arm! HAhaHA! As the creatures mandibles close in on my neck, and the clacking reaches a crescendo, the accompaniment rings out, as three sharp reports. The creature hisses sharply, and promptly slumps dead atop me, pinning me to the ground as I start to feel lukewarm beetle entrails pour onto my hand, and abdomen, and seep into my clothes. Fucking disgusting. I waste no time shoving and scooting my way out from under the surprisingly heavy corpse, and clamor uneasily to my feet. Looking into my viscerally covered right hand i wonder how hard it''s going to be to clean beetle guts off Belle, my trusty Kimber model 1911. Some movement draws my attention and i notice the crippled beetle is still struggling near the corpse of the first of the dead trio. I can fix that. Walking toward the twitching, writhing, uncoordinated creepy crawly, i get closer in a diagonal line, in case i need to avoid another surprise game of dodgebug. I stop at five meters, and watch. The bug seems more concerned with standing upright than with me, so i get closer. Four meters, three, two, and i hold there. I level Belle, but don''t bother with the sights, since it¡¯d be a goddamn disgrace if i missed at this range. I just focus on the beetle squirming around, it''s still clacking, but it''s erratic, it did open its wings, but it looks more to get proper balance than to try and charge me. it looks just like any other bug partially stepped underfoot, crawling in circles, injured, struggling, suffering, and if i believed stupid animals like this felt anything other than a full stomach and pain, it would probably be in fear for its life. I was afraid for a minute there. A hole opens in the beetles thorax and black sludge spurts onto the tan background of the on the ground behind the shrieking bug, then its face spontaneously splatters across the ground in front of it. I walk up to the corpse and poke it a couple times with my boot, then raise my leg and bring it down with as much force as I can muster on the black carapace, and start shouting, every word accompanied by a satisfying crack as i stomp down on the corpse ¡°I. Am. Too. Emotionally. Turbulent. To. Be. Dealing. With. Life. And. Death. Struggles. You. Inconsiderate. Fucking. Insect. Fuck. You. And. The Hole. You Crawled. Out Of.¡± Finished stomping for now, i look at my handiwork, and see an unrecognizable¡­ splat. It looks just like any beetle when someone stomps on em, but a lot more¡­ visceral. Great, now i have to clean my boots too. Fucking disgusting. After a moment of gazing at my handiwork, I notice im sourrounded. The villagers stand around me, in the same relaxed posture they usually have, but no smiles, everyone i''ve seen until now is here, watching me. Villagers, Vema, Cha, Nunu, Dane and his men. It''s a little uncomfortable knowing all these people probably just saw me have a bit of a mental snap, but there''s nothing to be done about it, it''s just the adrenaline. Just the adrenaline. Whew. Zen. Standing there, covered in bug guts, and cold sweat, my whole front aching from cuts or bruises, surrounded by a group of people I don''t know, I can''t help but chuckle and say, ¡°Sorry, I just had a bad breakup, you know how it goes... Hey, uh, any of you know a good drycleaner? Haha, just kidding, I¡¯m burning these.¡± Ch. 5 Nobody else laughed at my incredible humor, the only logical reason being that nobody here understands a word I''m saying. A damn shame. Mild shock adorns the faces of most of the people around me, which I get. The giant bugs aside I did act a bit unhinged a moment there, people are sensitive about people having mental breaks, especially around their homes. I''m good now though, I¡¯m zen, anger came, anger went, I¡¯m an empty vessel, more embarrassed than anything. I start wiping Belle on my shirt but realize i''m just making it worse since im drenched in goop all over my front so i find a relatively clear spot and start again. The people around me break out of their fung and start moving again, some still staring but many moving toward the corpses littered in front of their village, and collecting thrown arrows. Once I''m relatively satisfied Belle wont smear bug juice on my holster i slide her back in the polymer carrier and move to where Freya rests, a few yards from where I landed on my ass. I''m so ashamed, my gun must¡¯ve caught air when i was sacked, she doesn''t deserve that. Making my way over, Vema and Co. also head in my direction, but I''m a little focused right now, gotta make sure I didn''t make any new marks on my gun... naw, she''s practically an heirloom, not just a gun. As I lean over and pick up Freya, Vema starts to talk but I cut her off before she can get started. ¡°Give me a minute here, Vema. I gotta look at something real fast.¡± Saying her name seemed to have caught her attention and she thankfully stays quiet while I do my inspection. Few drops of bug blood, thin film of dirt along the whole right side, some dirt down the barrel, new likely superficial ding about a third of the way down the barrel, and a new few gashes on the left side of the stock, upsettingly deep, but probably also superficial. Doesn''t look like any major damage, thank god. I clear off as much dirt as I can for now, and rack the slide a few times, causing everyone in Vemas group to take a step back in apparent fear/shock: frock or shear which i''m sure are both already actual words. No shells eject, confirming Freya was empty for the last bugs assault, and i didnt short stroke, like I thought. I dont really know how to feel about that, part of me is glad it wasnt human error, and part of me feels like a fucking idiot for not realizing i was out of shells. With that conflicting feeling in my chest, I sling Freya over my left shoulder and turn to Vema, then gesture ¡®go ahead.¡¯ She still holds the fear in her eyes, just barely, just for a moment, but it''s gone, and I almost doubt I even saw it, but I did. I know that look, I get it from time to time, out shopping, or at a gas station. Usually out-of-staters, who¡¯ve never seen someone walking around with a gun on their hip, i never understood why people go to a state known to have lax gun control laws, then freak out when they see someone carrying one. how fucking stupid do you have to be to go somewhere different, then be wierded out the place is different? Then i, a law abiding citizen, get harassed by some holier-than-thou waste of space who makes me out to be some fucking monster just because i want to defend myself should the worst ever happen. You don''t drive a car without airbags do you, you fucking parrot? You ever go on a rollercoaster without safety bars peanut brain? Whew. Well, if some group of people have lived out here for god-only-knows how long then they probably aren''t that familiar with guns, so i wont hold their impressions against them. They might not even know what guns are, nobody¡¯s reacted to them until now anyway, i know they¡¯ve seen Freya and Belle while i¡¯ve been about the village. Anyway, Vema starts talking, ¡°Pah-Pahuvwa Vasco thank you for assistance, The Woods wraith is a fearsome thing, but you have proven yourself a rival in that regard. Most prove their bravery by surviving an encounter with The Wood, with the display of force from you I now believe with all my heart Pahuvwa Nunu was understating what he mentioned regarding you living comfortably alone in The Wood. I would like to extend, once again, an invitation asking you to reside here in the village with us, should you not accept, know you are always welcome to visit our village henceforth.¡± No fucking thanks. Willy Wonka could turn this whole fucking forrest into a reallife Candy Land, then cut off a patch of his own sour-sweet skin, dip it in gold, write ¡®admits two¡¯ on it and hand deliver the golden ticket to me and id tell him to use it as a condom and fuck himself with it ¡®cause im not camping in this godforsaken place ever again, nostalgia and sentiment be damned. Not by myself at least, three people minimum, so someone will always be awake to keep watch no millipede-from-king-kong mother of hellspawn comes skittering out of the darkness. Know what? Nevermind, i was right the first time i¡¯m never camping here again, i don''t need anyone who im still close enough to, to go camping with and hear the little bitch screams i¡¯ll make if i see that shit. ¡°Thanks, I''ll keep that in mind, but i''m still heading out with Dane¡± I smile and nod and point the direction away from this place causing Vemas faintly optimistic look to melt into a neutral one at the mention of Dane and pointing away. Maybe mention giant fuckoff animals in the brochure next time. With no-one saying anything after my decloration on getting the fuck outta here the atmosphere becomes dangerously close to awkward, exactly the type of shit im trying to avoid right now, so i start looking around aimlessly for a moment before my sight locks on to the path of destruction I had a heavy hand in making, and i forget im standing in front of anyone. Fifteen dead bugs killt. 50 meters is a¡­ unideal distance for buckshot, and big as they are, these bugs aren''t quite big enough to be shooting them at that distance with this ammo, it''s just barely in range for something like a deer, and you¡¯d want to be closer to have a better chance at a killshot, it''s a hunters duty to keep an animal suffering to a minimum afterall. Despite that, not only did one of the beetles die around that distance but I also managed a two-fer due to the spread of the shot, so technically even with my blunder with that flying bastard I still came out on top. Ah, that''s a lie, im never gonna let myself live that down. So fifteen is actually a lot of corpses to look at all at once, and while its not the first time I''ve seen sights like this, it does seem a bit surreal looking at gargantuan beetles next to the villagers around them. I guess it''s always a strange sight seeing bodies lying about a field, no matter the species. The first time I''ve seen so many corpses in one place was while I was quail hunting with a buddy of mine, and his buddies, someone who isn''t part of my now previous group¡­ a work buddy lets say. Digress. Anyway, while we were all walking in a line about 30 meters apart the guy on the far right end called everyone over, which was unusual, we go out hunting to hunt and keep anything interesting to say for when we take a break. Well, we all walk over to him, which takes some time since the guy on the other end of the line was about 120 meters away, and low and behold some biblical shit meets our sight. A field of rotting cattle. At the end of the trip we had a total body count to be somewhere in the mid thirties. We did some redneck investigating and it seemed to us, some low down pieces of shit took a joyride in the middle of the desert, found a herd of cattle and opened fire, riding down any that tried to get away. Real fucked up shit right? I hope the owner of those cattle found whoever did that and got some frontier justice, and now they rest in a shallow pit somewhere near all those rotten carcasses. I''m not just saying that neither, i really do, some people don''t deserve the gift of life that their mother gave them, and im sure as fuck aint gonna mourn someone who spends their life doing shit like that. The scene in front of me does remind me of that experience but the smell is way different. These are fresh corpses and somehow it doesn''t seem the insides of the beetles smell any different from the outside, it just gets stronger as you get closer. The cattle on the other hand did stink. Dozens of bodies out in the desert sun for what had to be between a week and a month, and you¡¯re damn sure gonna get watery eyes walking up on them. To be honest though, the smell didn''t bother me too much until i was practically face to flesh, hell when the wind was right it smelled almost sweet, which made me a bit concerned for myself, especially when two of the guys we were with started dry heaving the moment they barely caught a whiff. Thinking about it, right now i would prefer rotting cow to fresh killed beetle, the musk just keeps hitting my nose in a way that feels like there''s a miner in my head swinging a pickaxe at my forehead from the inside. I''m just glad I don''t have to touch these monster freaks again. So, final tally: Freya gets seven kills and an assist, two for Belle, and six dead at the rocks and spear and arrowtips of the villagers. Well, unless some of the ones i hit just fell down and the villagers finnished them off while i was incapacitated, but im counting them anyway. The villagers in question, once finished with gathering their thrown supplies, start swarming the giant beetle corpses and drag or carry them toward the village. Dear lord please tell me there wasn''t bug meat in that stir-fry¡­ ah fuck it, i am sort of an asshole so i¡¯ve probably eaten a loogie or two after deciding to go out to a resturaunt while having a bad day, and honstly i prefer big bug beef to phlem fondue. Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. I don''t want to talk about the weird shit i¡¯ve possibly eaten anymore. Watching the villagers drag, or team up and carry bug corpses i notice they aren''t touching the ones i killed. That seems a little odd to me, but it''s not like i''m going to volunteer to help with that job, i already did my fair share of the work, and its not like im gonna be the one who has to deal with leaving a bunch of rotting animals outside my home.You know, ¡®i cook, you do the dishes,¡¯ or, ¡®i kill a hord of huge fuckin bugs, and you pick up the corpses.¡¯ plus its not like there''s a shortage of villagers to help, even without the 30 or so who ¡®fought¡¯ there''s still enough villagers to have two carry each body. There is a job I am willing to do, so I start with it; i walk to where i opened fire, and pick up the spent shells, the 12 gauge first since they''re closer, and easier to spot on the ground because the artificial red color they have, the 45.¡¯s casings will probably be harder to find since brass is a bit more of a natural color, even if shiny, and they tend to eject all over the place, where Freya will chuck spent shells in almost the same spot every time, provided you¡¯re standing still. Spent casings are good for reloading, and reloading is good for my wallet. My uncle was the one who started reloading years ago, and I never really go into it until fairly recently after he kept going on and on about how he was saving money on rounds and could spend more on gas to get to the range rather than the bullets. He wore me down, so i went over a couple weekends to see how its done. A simple enough process: deprime, clean the shells, make sure there are no faults in the shell, then put in the powder and projectile. Obviously it''s a bit more involved than that, but that''s the process. I¡¯ve made a few batches by myself now but i''m no expert; my uncle has caught me accidentally double loading a batch before, a good recipe for if you want a bloody stump where you used to have a hand, so needless to say I don''t plan on buying a reloader for myself anytime soon, but these casings will make for good practice, at the very least. As I finish collecting four red shotgun shells and two blue, remembering I did load two slugs, and also recalling one of the last three bugs turn into a localized blood shower, I notice two of the villagers saddling up behind me. A boy and a girl, both are probably younger than me by a couple years, and both with the villagers trademarked grin ? sitting on their faces. I turn to them and stare for a few seconds, their smile still never wavering, before making a ¡°well?¡± gesture prompting them both to start speaking at once. ¡°Pahuvwa Vas-.¡± ¡°Pahuvwa Vasco! Would you like help collecting the Feshea?! Or maybe those clinky-tinky things?! Thank you for standing with our defenders against The Wood! I skip foraging with the elders since they get so near The Wood and I haven''t even gone to collect peace stones yet, even though everyone else got theirs so long ago! GraMa Cha says it''s okay though because someone will always be able to protect the village, it sounded so silly when she said it but now someone who isn''t even born blessed stopped The Woods anger so quickly it has to be true! I was scared for you when that Feshea almost ran you through, but now it''s over it was really funny the way your arms flopped around like this after you got knocked over!¡± They started speaking at once but the guy was snuffed out almost immediately, buried under the onslaught of the girls loud, bubbly personality. You don''t think indeginous people would even begat someone with a personality like that, but i guess nothing¡¯s set in stone in this world, i mean someone having spunk out here is a little less shocking than¡­ everyfucking thing else thats been happening today. Most of what she said went over my head as I was in a bit of a daze because of how loud the girl was, but I definitely did not appreciate the way she grabbed at her chest with one hand and flung her other around in a spastic manner while crossing her eyes and sticking her tounge out in an effort to mimic me as i was stuggling to catch a breath after a bug the seize of a big dog tried to reenact its cousins on the highway using me as a replacement for a windshield. I don''t say anything, since they won''t understand what i say anyway, and bend down to pick up a brass shell casing sitting by my boot. I give it a quick dustoff and show the two in front of me what i want to grab off the ground. The boy smiles, nods and gets right to looking around on the ground. The girl immediately starts talking again. ¡°Oh wow! What is that?! It''s so shiny! Are you looking for those?! I¡¯ve never seen a part of a Feshea look like that! Wait, it must be yours right?! Is it part of that loud stick thing?! If I find one can i keep it?! Hold on, i''m going to go look!¡± Sighing in relief, I look toward the dead bug a few feet from me, the one that flew at me; and kick the corpse over, finding two more casings under where the cadaver was. It makes sense, the thing was atop me when I shot it, and Belle, while unpredictable, does usually eject shells almost straight backward, so straight into the ground in this case. Looking around, I see the boy who came over bend down and pick something up, the girl is wandering around, too quickly to actually spot something if she were even close enough to the area the casings would likely be, but she is a good 20 meters away, so if she happens to find something I doubt it¡¯ll be a casing. The rest of the villagers have mostly finished collecting their share of the corpses, and whatever they threw, i just wish they would¡¯ve taken ¡®mine¡¯ too so I didn''t feel like I have to clean up a mess I made. I start walking to my car, I need a drink. I open the back of my truck and fish a beer out of the cooler and open it as i sit on the tailgate to watch the remnants of the villagers walk out of sight behind their rock house things with beetle corpses in tow; nine bodies are still left untouched in the field. The bubbly girl and the compliant boy are still out in the field looking around, and Dane and co. with Vema and co. are where I left them after staring into the field to avoid an awkward situation earlier, just talking amongst themselves. I sit and stare for a long time. There''s so much to think about but i can''t grip a single thought, hell I don''t know if there''s anything going on up there in the first place. Maybe i''m just hollow; as empty physically as i feel mentaly. I was so¡­ terrified, just for a moment, all encompassing, gripping, cold, fear. I¡¯ve been in what I thought to be life and death situations before: bad drivers running a light as I was turning, or a slip while rock climbing. When my parents were having it out, and took a brief respite from their screaming match to look at each other with such hatred, I thought that night, somebody was going to die . This time though, i was so stupid. I always knew what I had to do in each situation, I knew what the right thing to do was, even with adrenaline, or anger or whatever trying to hinder me, I always had a cool enough head. I forgot I had another arm. Im so fucking dumb, and it was no big thing either, it was a fucking bug that trips me up, after everything i¡¯ve been through. Maybe it''s just because it was such a clear struggle, that things life, or mine, kill or be killed. killed. Did that word always weigh so much? ¡­ ¡°Pahuvwa Vasco, would you like help loading the Feshea into your cart? It''s no problem if you would like the help.¡± Another new face, one of the villagers. One of the ones holding a spear. There''s black sludge on the speartip I shake my head no and point to the man, hoping he¡¯ll just take the corpses and leave me alone. I really don''t want those fuckers in my car. He seems skeptical about what i''m trying to say, but turns and walks away which is good enough for me. Unfortunately the two teens walk up, seemingly done with their task, but looking fairly dispirited. hmm, maybe I should start a club. Bummers R Us. ¡°Pahuvwa Vasco i''m sorry, we could only find two of these items. If you¡¯d like, we can still assist with harvesting the Feshea?¡± the guys starts, looking at me like a kicked puppy while handing me two brass shells. The girl looks worse, like she might have a breakdown any minute. I set down my drink and unholster Belle, the two take a jumpy step back, then release the magazine to see how many rounds are still loaded. Just two, plus one in breech so three total so I shot five times earlier: wow, we found all the spent casings. Holstering Belle, I look down at the light clinking i keep hearing, the two casings in my hand keep bouncing off each other as i notice my hand shaking violently. The bottle next to me prespires from top to bottom, not a sip lower than when i opened it. ¡°Here.¡± I say as I hold out the casings for the teens in front of me. I don''t know how long I''ve been sitting here but they probably put way more effort into looking for these shells than necessary. I could have counted how many rounds I fired earlier and showed them how many were out there, or just not bothered picking them up at all, i''m not that cheap, I just almost reflexively pick up my spent shells, and wasn''t really thinking when i asked them to find them. They both look a little wary at first, but shortly they both take a step forward simultaneously, and tentatively hold out their hands. When I drop a shell in each of their palms they both show such a beaming smile, i almost feel guilty about them helping me; that''s some cheap labor right there. I stand, grab my beer and chug the contents in one go and hand the bottle to one of the teens as I pass, on my way to Dane. Walking up to Dane, Vema, Nunu, and everyone else, they stop their chat a moment to acknowledge me, and Dane says something to me in his course sounding language, prompting Vema to translate. ¡°Merchant Dane would like to know why you have not collected your Feshea. It seems Merchant Dane is anxious to depart swiftly else The Wood Continue its wrathful display. I have been told Feshea corpses are fairly valuable in PakeCrest, and you do have claim to those that you have vanquished. I have requested Young Man Kah, and Young One Mehn to assist you, did they not aid you?¡± I look over to the corpses in question and sigh. I hold up nine fingers and gesture to the bodies, then point the ¡®four¡¯ at Dane, and the ¡®five¡¯ at Vema. thankfully they seem to understand, but seem doubtful about my intentions. After a short time trying to convince them I don''t want a bunch of dead bugs they seem genuinely grateful, as both round up their collective groups to go collect the beetles still in the field, and deposit them either in the village, or the wagon. That buissness wraped up, i get Danes attention and wave my arm in the direction he came from, and say, ¡°lets get the fuck outta here.¡± showing a big smile he copies my wave and shouts something i imagine translates to ¡®okay guys, lets get the fuck outta here¡¯ and moves to his wagon. I move toward my truck when Vema speaks up again. ¡°Pahuvwa Vasco, i would like to thank you again for your bravery and generosity. Merchant Dane stated earlier he would like Guardsman Jas to accompany you in your trek back to town. Remember Pahuvwa, you are welcome here anytime. May Chahmeya keep you, and you keep the strength to always move forward.¡± ¡°Thanks i guess. You too. See you i guess. Keep it chill Nunu.¡± and with that, I turn again walking toward my truck once more. This time I hear a set of footsteps behind me, and sigh again. I won''t just be able to drive away now with some guy in my car. Well some good¡¯s come out of getting so scared of dying by a bug: Its really taken my mind off this breakup. Ch.6 On the road... Again(?) Don''t ever complain about how bad things are, they can always be worse. I have a slight hangover: sucks but alright. Found out my girlfriend was cheating: I can manage. Most of my friendships are now non existent: do I really want friends like that anyway? Found myself amnesiac or kidnaped, and don''t know where I am: I wanted to disappear for awhile anyway. Covered in bug guts and can''t take a shower, now that''s proof god or the devil is just trying to ruin me and having fun doing it. That''s as bad as it gets for me, sitting in filth for an indeterminable amount of time. I can handle being gross or grimey for awhile, I can have fun doing it too, but spelunking in entrails gets to me apparently. Or more like, I feel like I''m a walking germ, spreading diseases just by being alive, and the thought I have to taint my trucks interior with this gunk is really the source of my angst. Dust, dirt, leaves, wrappers, whatever, don''t care. Bug blood... eugh, I shudder at the thought. My poor truck. Speaking of unwanted things in my truck, the guy trailing me fits that bill as well. I suppose I should just tell Dane he could screw himself but he probably wouldn''t understand what I''d be saying. The day''s already shot to hell anyway, any ''healing'' I was going to do today would be a bit moot now I''ve got actual physical wounds to look after, and as much as I want to be left alone right now, my curiosity has actually been peaked now. There''s some fuckery going on around here and I want to know what it is. I need to find someone who knows what the fucks going on and speaks english. So since I''m not exactly sure where I am, making ''just drive where you think a road is'' a fucking stupid idea, my best bet is to follow Dane and get in touch with people I can communicate with¡­ wait... Brain! you dull, tiny, stupid, idiot! Phone, duh¡­ Ah, right nevermind, bad reception in the woods. Still worth a shot, but my hopes aren''t high. Still though I should''ve thought of it sooner, well sooner I was just thinking of driving away, I didn''t care where this place is but now I do just to make sure I avoid it in the future if nothing else. Walking up to my truck, I see the two teens still standing at my tailgate chatting energetically. One of them at least. ¡°Alright you two, catch ya later, or never again, who knows it''s a wild world. Anyway you gotta move I¡¯m gonna back up.¡± I say in passing to the pair as I move to the drivers side. ¡°Pahuvwa Vasco! Hey, may we keep the!?-,¡± the girl gets a soft jab in the side, eliciting a short yelp and a glare directed at the boy at her side, ¡°You said I could ask to keep it! Its sooo pretty I have to ask! Don''t you think they¡¯ll look so nice on our Jeyme!? Surely we¡¯ll be graced with them! co-mon!¡± the girl whisper shouts at the boy, who answers with a soft nod and a shrug. They don''t seem to notice I didn''t stop my stride until I pop open the door and move to get in my truck, then they both follow me as I sit down carefully as I can so I don''t splat gunk anywhere; Danes guy in turn follows the two teens. Before they can say anything I hold up an ¡®okay¡¯ sign, then wave them away once again hoping my flailing gets my point across which it does seem to, then point to the man following them and try to get him to go to the passenger side, which does not work judging by how he stands there looking at me blankly like someone at a highschool talent show who has to sit through the whole thing to see the person they¡¯re supporting go up after everyone else. I lean over and open the passenger door then gesture again, and the guy stares a moment before seemingly reluctantly sauntering around my car and cautiously, deliberately, slowly clamores in and sits down with a huff. I reach over to shut my door, seeing the two teens standing a few feet from my car and staring at me hard with grins adorning their faces, then turn to the man and stare at him more than a few moments trying to get him to shut his door, which he eventually does, as painfully slowly as humanly possible. The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. This guy is gonna get on my nerves sooner or later, i can tell. I reach over and grab my phone from one of the cupholders. I always wanted a touchscreen when they came out but I don''t really do anything different than with my old phone, only like three people keep in touch with me regularly and I don''t use social media on it, I just use my computer forward that. I guess it''s nice having Youtube to go, and not having to worry about keeping track of an ipod in addition to everything I carry throughout the day but overall the thing i think i actually need from my phone would be the GPS. its really saved me a couple times when i was DDing and didnt know where the fuck my delirious passengers lived. After turning on my data, however, unsuprisingly my phone has no fucking clue where i am. I really got what I wanted didn''t I? Real disconnected from people, huh? I WISH! What goddamn tomfoolery is happening? I just wanted a week alone. Well, bananana-na-nana-nanana you can''t always get what you want i guess. I turn the ignition and this time watch for a reaction from my passenger, who face bursts into surprise, alertness and fear. I whip my head over to see the what the two teens thought of a car starting and¡­ nothing? Not no reaction but no teens. looking around, I spot them in my review mirror headed straight to Vemas group, who also all look a little spooked, barring Nunu, who has slight concern on his face but overall seems to be enjoying everyone''s panick as much as me as he tries to calm the people around him. Alright, time to blow this popsicle stand, I guess. I rev the engine just to get another rise out of everyone, then accelerate quickly around the village until I see Danes cart and pull up a good distance behind him and hit the breaks a bit harder than I normally would, sending my passenger into the dashboard; he catches himself with a loud slap of his palms hitting the dash and his forehead thunking the windshield glass. Whoospie. Dane seems pretty spooked by my driving, but only barely shows it, standing tall while the two guards around him duck and cover, the muscle horses neigh deeply in a way that says to me ''come at me bruh'', and the giant bulldogs hunker low on their front legs, ready to pounce while still strapped to their cart. O.K. asshole you wanna tone it down a bit with the fucking with the guy who''s gonna take you outta here? Thats what I thought, me; that''s what I thought. Yea I don''t like being a dick for no reason, gotta work on that. To be fair though, I''m not that close to hitting anything, everyone here''s just really jumpy around my truck, that ain''t my fault. I open my door and peek my head around the windshield to yell, "I''m ready Dane, let''s roll out!" Again flailing an arm off in that general direction as I hold my weight on the ''oh shit'' bar with the other. Dane gives a few quick nods to me before turning around and shouting at the two helpers of his in his course, choppy language,which in turn calms them a bit, as they regain their bearings and walk over to their horses to mount. Dane gives his big dogs a quick pat each before hopping onto the driver''s spot of his cart and setting the thing in a gradual U turn to head back where he came from. Alright, time to find out where the hell I am. Ch. 7 Nothing Seems Right Ooooooohhhh myyyy gooooodd shut up. Ever since we started down the road this guy just hasn''t shut his mouth. I don''t even know what he''s saying to nod and say ''uh huh'' every once in awhile just nonstop droning in a language that sounds like boulders rolling downhill. It''s not white noise, it''s not ASMR, what it is, is a car alarm at three A.M when you have to be up early for an interview tomorrow. What it is, is a bee flying right up into your ear despite how much head-twitching and arm flinging you throw at it. What it is, is fucking annoying to the point of anger, to the point of contemplating a murder-suicide just to escape the non-stop Chinese water torture I''m being forced to endure¡­ Yea, I''m exagerating, It''s not that bad but I am fucking bored, and the warbwarb I have to listen to isn''t helping. Nunu did something similar but it''s wasn''t so goddamn unbearable, mostly because of how in my own head I was, but also because when Nunu talks it''s like grandpa talking, where you just shut up, sit and listen, even though he''s told you this exact same story almost word for word a hundred times before, you shut up. sit. and listen. When this discount Steve Buscemi talks it''s like listening to a blender full of rocks, but in slow motion. Almost painfully, and for some stupid brain reason I''m thinking super clearly right now. Earlier today I felt like a rusted engine, the bed of a garbage truck; now I''m fucking Neo, crystal clear, no headache, no sluggishness. aside from the revulsion of the actual physical muck pressed against my clothes and clinging to my skin, and the ever present pain from my the bruise on my chest and scratches up my legs, I feel pretty damn alright, and I have to spend this rare clarity of mind trapped on a rocky road going below ten miles per hour with one of the most grating human beings I''ve ever met. I''m not particularly surprised it''s kinda just my luck. He won''t mind if I put on some music, I''m sure. Hmm I never know what to play for other people, hell most of the time I don''t even know what I''m in the mood for, just set it to shuffle and see what in vibing with at the time. He probably won''t like heavy stuff¡­ classic rock? Maybe, the guy''s old enough. Classical? Honestly, I''m in the mood to bang my head but classical doesn''t sound to bad either, nice and neutral, anyone can enjoy classical, or is it orchestral? At what point does a song become a ''classical'' song? I never really understood the dividing lines in the genres of music. As long as I like the song the genre doesn''t really matter to me, of course, that being said I am partial to some music over others. All this to avoid the point that I don''t know what song I''m gonna play. So fucking indecisive. Well that''s what playlists are for I guess, I didn''t spend all that time sorting through thousands of songs to not use the playlists I made. While using one hand to steer I grab where the auxiliary cord plugs into my car radio and trace the wire to the other end, restarting twice after going too far and dropping the cord, my eyes still focused on the cart rolling along ahead of me. I plug the cord into my phone sitting in the cupholder, practiced after doing this on a near daily basis, unlocking my phone with a quick swipe of a finger, and finding the app with most of my music. Mall cop J sits with his eyes closed and head leaned back as he continues his relentless word vomit, the bastard relaxed as can be despite the discourtesy to the other passenger; this is why I wanted to stop using public transportation. Looking back and forth between the ''road'' and navigating my phone''s menus I eventually find the "Classical" playlist and hit shuffle, leaving the choice to RNG. The music starts, something other than this guy''s words to focus on and I could hardly be more grateful for that fact. Better yet, it''s a song I know I like... err, someone''s waltz no.2 I think, a personal favorite, even if I''m not certain of the name. ¡­ Hmm? Ooohh, i thought it was weird i didn''t want to grab my earmuffs from the back, my passenger has finally shut up. You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. Eyes wide, but unseeing, the man whose name i definitely remember sits up and stares hard at the dashboard but its clear he''s listening very, very intently to the music. As the music goes on he relaxes a little, but keeps the eery focus on the music. I turn up the volume, and the stalemate goes for another couple minutes until the song ends, leaving the man next to me with a confusing look on his face, a mix of elation and, I dunno, sorrow? Hmm, i found his weakness. Time to exploit. I leave the classical shuffle going and try to enjoy the gratingly slow ride and the scenery, the music adding ambiance to the trip, changing the tone of my musings with the tone of the song. Everything looks off. There''s trees, bushes, rocks, hills, mountains, birds, clouds, the goddamn sky itself. None of it looks right. The trees are wide, tall and leafy; where they should be tall, thin and with needles and pine cones. The bushes are wide and flat, with an almost harsh smell, when they should be almost treelike themselves, with leaves that smell like rain in the desert. The rocks, boulders sitting around aren''t like the smooth, round, kaki, or grey ones that sat at the bottom of an ocean millions of years ago, they¡¯re sharp, jagged, black with speckled white. The hills and mountains, covered in foliage, and far off in the distance, not the almost sometimes barren looking ones im used to, the ones I drove to and set up camp in. The largest bird you usually see would be a hawk, or maybe if you''re lucky an owl or eagle, the birds i see are all fucking huge, too far away to make out what they are clearly but im close to certain they arent any of the ones im used to seeing¡­ should be seeing. The sky¡­ I didn''t notice before, and it might just be my cars window fucking with me but¡­ its¡­ got a pink tint to it. Im struck. I really am not where I should be. This just isn''t my¡­ camp, state; hell, maybe country judging by the weird languages. I really am lost? How? My stomach drops as a foreboding, overwhelming sense of dread and worry encompasses every inch of me. I grip my steering wheel as tight as I can to ward off the full body quakes that threaten to override my motor function, and try to forget about it; not deny it, just to move on as quickly as I can, so I can hurry up and stop feeling like a child who cant find their parent at a mall. I can''t forget it, i cant move on. Not the same minute i''ve been hit with the gravity of this weird ass situation. My mind i turns to blame, wild crackpot theories with no basis. Someone pissed with me at work? That group of people at the pump next to me at the gas station? Mia, irrationally pissed i wouldn''t get on my knees and suck that card-carrying-fags dick the moment she diclosed the most unsavory part of her i never knew existed. Could be? One of my jaded parents looking to prove a point? Someone. Someone did this: had to do this. How else? How could you explain this? My face heats up and no matter how hard I try, I can''t hold back tears spilling out of my eyes. God, before yesterday i can''t actually remember the last time I cried. When did i turn into such a wimp? Why do i feel so helpless? Nothing bad¡¯s really happened yet¡­ I mean aside the bug thing. I''m usually so in control. I know what I want to do, I find out how, and I do it. I just don''t know. I don''t know. I don¡¯t know how. I don¡¯t know why. I don¡¯t know where. Don¡¯t know who. I always know. I know what im doing, how i¡¯ll do it, where its going, whos gonna help. And now i don''t. Something i do know is nothing good comes from not knowing what''s going on, and that hasn''t been me for a long time. I remember im not alone in my car, and wipe my face, almost too embarrassed to look at my passenger, but some morbid curiosity forces me to peak at him. A creepy smile adorns his face, admittedly I think he always had a creepy face, as he turns to me, tears adorning his eyes as well, giving me a lopsided grin he pats my back and says something in his garble language, then sits back and once again focuses on the music. Moonlight Serenade, he¡¯s lost in his own world, enjoying the music so much it''s brought him to tears. I wish I knew what the hells happening right now. Whew. Hehe, what a stupid way to break up the fucking trainwreck that was going on in my mind. I''m still feeling pretty goobered but I was in a pretty dark spiral for a moment there and the dumbass sitting next to me really kept me from going nutters for awhile. Guess i owe him one, not that i¡¯ll ever tell him that. I try to zen myself as much as I can for what seems a short while, until eventually, many songs later the man next to me taps my shoulder trying to signal something past the cart blocking the view in front of us. I¡¯ll just assume what he means on my own. Breathe in, breathe out. I¡¯ll get to the bottom of this. I don''t know now, but I will. Ch. 8 Pretty Woman The small convoy moved at a steady pace, even within sight of their destination. What seemed a comfortable, steady pace to most of the occupants, seemed tortuously slow to the young man driving the second vehicle of the train, one thought the convoy was going to fast, and too soon his miraculous ride with comfortable seats, even temperature, and heavenly sounds would come to an end, and he''d either be forced to ride in an uncomfortable cart or have to sit straight backed in a saddle the rest of his life. The location the convoy had just recently departed was bustling with activity. Many villagers dismantling corpses of The Woods defenders, others organizing the tools and supplies just traded for earlier today. Every villager pleased with the spoils haggled, killed, or gifted today, not even an injury to show for the trouble. Some villagers, however pleased they were couldn''t help holding slight concern for how easily a young man¡­ a Great Helper, Pahuvwa, could dispatch The Woods threatening and previously thought as robust Feshea. After generations as the watchers, keepers, and defenders for and from The Wood, they were so easily out performed. Too easily. Others were taken with the valuable materials and shiny knick-knacks left behind to be anything other than gratefully to the generous stranger who came through their home, too happy to hold onto the curiosity of his strange thunderous equipment, or marvelous un-mounted cart he appeared with. The town of PakeCrest ahead of the convoy, resplendent in the early afternoon sun. A large star shaped building encircled by a tall, continuous wall, sitting on a plateau overlooking the otherwise rather dull looking town. Unsuspecting of the local legend soon to be birthed in its midst. Well what the shit is that? It looks like a Mormon temple designed by architects in the 15th century. And the fucking ''town'' is just another fucking village, but instead of living in boulders they live in thatched roof cottages. Thatched roof cottages! Ok, ok, ok yup, yup. Im¡­ gone. I really definitely am gone somewhere. Just gotta keep an open mind and see what''s going on, at least where I am. Fuck camping I want to go home. I''ll just hole up in my room for a few days and be depressed like a normal teen, stay under the covers and order pizzas, watch Adam Sandler movies and mas¡­ and remember the good times. We¡¯ve already moved into the town and i don''t see anything to relate to; no proper buildings, or streetlights, the clothes are weird, the people weirder, no pavement, asphalt, or concrete, cars just confusion, disappointment, and frustration welling up. As we trickle along the ¡®road¡¯ the people going about town stare as we pass, i stare back, fuckin rude, im not the one who went to a renaissance fair in the middle of the woo-... in the middle of wherever i am. Ugh. I see kids running after us in the mirrors, little rascals look ready to throw mud at my car before their parents grab them and begin a stern lecturing, a few straight into spanking them in the middle of the street. I wouldn''t mind too much to be honest if they threw the mud, id probably have to wash my truck after my trip anyway, not that im gonna speak on the children''s behalf, them rugrats could use some discipline i''m guessing, i did. Our procession continues to the base of the hill thing where the big temple looking building sits, as we move through the town the buildings get better constructed, even though I¡¯d still prefer to live in a regular brick house than most of these shoddy looking tinder piles. Not much changing otherwise, disappointment haunts me, and in spite of my uncomfortable situation boredom continues clubbing me over the head. I want to disinfect my cuts, fucking bug, eugh. Pulling up to the biggest building i''ve seen here, aside the thing on the hill, im actually relatively impressed by how it looks; a large, sturdy, almost warehouse looking building, made out of wood, stone, and some parts reinforced with untreated metal. A fence leading to the back of the building opens up as we get close and Dane and his entourage go through, probably to unload his ¡®merchandise¡¯ i park next to the gate and turn the key, shutting off the engine, AC, and music in one go. A mistake apparently, as the man next to me finally cracks his eyes open and gives me a half pleading half threatening stare and starts speaking, much quieter than earlier, as I grab Freya and get out heading to the back of the truck. I open the back and drag out the ammo box I used earlier this morning and reload my shotgun, just buckshot this time, slugs hurt and apparently weren''t necessary seeing as how the ball bearings in the ¡®double o¡¯ did good enough work on the beetle things. I double check the safety¡¯s on and place Freya in the back of the truck, no point in keeping her out now I¡¯m out of the woods, literally speaking. I exchange that ammo box for another and unholster Belle, taking out and reloading the magazine, then grabbing an extra already loaded magazine and place it in my back pocket. Once Belle is reloaded and reholstered, I place the ammo box back where I dragged it from, and take stock of what''s in my truck, in case stuff went missing while I was moved to this weird-ass place. Cooler, solar powered generator, propane and propane accessories, grill and cooking equipment, tent, sleeping bag, sleeping roll, personal bag, toiletries (with a portable toilet since Mia didn''t like just popping a squat), tarps plural, one two...wow eleven cans of ammo, sleeves for my long guns, three camping chairs, and my gun bag. That should be just about it, lots of stuff but still room to spare for a few people to throw in their camping stuff, as planned. Pff planned. Buncha douches. I was planning on dumping a lot of weight on the way back, ammo can keep for years, but i want to start shooting up the old stuff this trip, a lot of the stockpiled shit i have is really dirty ammo, just stuff i grabbed at a discount so I can have something to shoot. I wanted to get rid of all these dirty rounds and start again from the ground up, but it¡¯d be pretty tough shooting all this in one trip by myself, i can feel the rawness in my thumbs from loading dozens of magazines now. Mwah, mwah don''t worry thumbs i bought a new reloader, they cant hurt you anymore. Blegh, don''t kiss thumbs with bug blood on them before washing your hands eeeehhhhh. My temporary traveling companion stands beside me as i close the back of my truck, staring at the side of my head like a crackhead in front of a gas station. Keep it up crackhead, i''m an expert at ignoring your kind, i haven''t given out spare change in years. Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. ¡°Jas! grema pe cra!¡± Someone runs up, yelling; I assume he''s one of Danes truck loader slash ¡®guardsman¡¯ since he''s got on the same clothing as the other guys. I thought he was gonna chew me out to move my car, but he was just calling out crack head apparently, as the man turns to the newcomer with a frown, and the two start their chat, neither appearing very happy to have to talk to one another. As i gawk around trying in vain to spot something familiar, Dane walks around the building waving to get my attention and with nothing else to do i oblige and follow as he doesn''t miss a step, and takes a turn toward the front doors of the warehouse. Entering the building, im once again surprised by the aesthetic of the building. I expected the inside to be minimalistic, or utilitarian based off what i''ve seen around here, and the fact its got to be some kind of storefront or just a giant empty building, boy howdy i was wrong. This place is fucking gaudy, or as guady as a place like this can be. Royal blue gold trimmed carpet, bent tables standing at odd angles, paintings lining the walls, most of a town that looks similar to this one, but much, much more populated, marble statues, candle holders that look to be made of silver or gold holding lit candles and scattered about the place, various statues, peculiarly designed furniture. none of it looking very grand; like someone thought it was more important to have something than to make sure it was well made or designed. Dane calls out and a voice calls back, feminin. Eventually i hear footsteps,and Dane turns and gives me a smile and wink. The footfalls echo louder and shortly someone rounds the archway leading from this entrance to the left side of the building. Ahhh, now I get it. The woman who rounded the corner, wearing the poofiest, frilliest dress i¡¯ve ever seen, and Dane walk up to each other and embrace; a sweet sight quickly soured by the couple moving from a G rated hug to PG-13 make out session. Not like im mourning a relationship or anything, that didn''t bring a wave of dread or nothin¡¯ sniff sniff, sadface. Before i notice, they break from their own little world and make their way to me, speaking again as they get close. With one hand around Dane the woman uses the back of her other to swipe down over her thigh into a low jazzhand and say ¡°Froma dah, Jaus Crestfo. Uhks mne jehe?¡± I don''t get to reply before Dane starts up probably telling his wife, likely the woman responsible for the decor around the house, i cant speak their language, along with some other stuff I obviously didn''t catch, then their conversation starts and soon they once again slip into their own world, staring into eachothers eyes. Fucking sickening. For the second or third time today i contemplate murder suicide, but figure if i die here noones gonna retrieve my body since theyd have to come into this building. They break their bubble on their own eventually, and start up a conversation again, though it''s pretty clear im basicly forgotten by the pair thus i stand awkwardly for what feels like hours until Dane catches himself and ushers me back out the door we entered after another kiss. I''m basically pushed all the way to the end of the building before Dane starts walking beside me, two of Danes employees trail us closely and we keep walking to an incline, and up toward the temple thing at the top of the hill. Getting closer just enforces the thought of how important this place is supposed to be. not only is it what appears to be the tallest thing for miles, but it also has a big fuckoff wall all the way around it. I dont mean ¡®oh its a fucking wall¡¯ i mean its a goddamn five meter tall monstrosity with a moat and people, guards, patrolling the top. I gotta stop questioning this stuff. I need to turn off my brain, autopilot till i''m home again. As we cross the moat and the tunnel in the wall Dane gives me a pat on the shoulder and another smile. We exit the tunnel and head to the temple, two of the guards that were already in the area flank Danes guards and escort us to the building. I have to look up to see the ceiling of the giant arch in the ¡®patio¡¯ in front of the temple door, the entire structure looks like its made of carved stone, smooth and clean, really a beautiful building, something that gives me hope, no way someone could build something like this without modern tools, it looks so precise. There''s a giant door in the wall that looks like the entrance to this place, even though its closed, turns out it''s not though as Dane leads me to the side of the door to a smaller, more actual person sized door. Not hidden but unnoticed beside the beautifully engraved giant next the ordinary looking wooden one. The inside of the building is something Danes wife could take a lesson from, not tacky at all, beautifully ornate. Polished floor, even more ornately carved walls all the way to the ceiling no need for paintings with the art carved straight into the wall, the furniture that is sparsely placed about looks comfortable and well made at a glance, the atmosphere feels almost sacred like an empty chapel, making me feel even more gross than I have been, if I was a walking germ before now in the source of all that''s bad in the world, spreading defiled corruption with every step. We walk through the empty halls for a short while until we come across a group of people that i didn''t notice standing on the far end of the room when I came in, either due to my distraction of the fact they were standing so still. Four people, all wearing light grey cloaks; they look like someone who wrapped their blankets around them to answer the door in winter. Once again Dane initiates conversation causing the robed people to look over at us. A brief discussion ensues, and I once again ignore the proceedings in favor of staring at everything I can, really a beautiful place, the Sistine Chapel could take notes. Two of the robed people leave farther into the building where i haven''t seen and come back another few short minutes later with someone else, I continue to ignore the situation in favor of appreciating the arts, they don''t talk long before a ¡°Vashko gruke noch.¡± and I turn to look at Dane, then to whatever he''s pointing at, seeing the bottle he handed to Vema earlier, handed out to me by someone from the group in front of us, guess i¡¯ll need to drink that¡­ what''s up with this guys hand? What the fuck is that!? I jump back and fumble to unholster Belle in the face of the fucking monster before me. Three inch claws sharp and ready to rend flesh, glistening light grey scales covering every inch of its exposed skin, and cold unfeeling reptilian eyes, a giant hunched bipedal komodo dragon looking creature stands only a few feet away from me and has me in his sight, ready to rip my throat out and turn me into tomorrow''s bowel movement. ¡®Don''t need Freya¡¯ my ass. walking backwards Belle slides free of her holster, and as I level my gun, I trip over my own feet, and get a weightless feeling for a moment as I fall flat on my ass, again. I keep my breath but I hit my tailbone hard on the solid cold stone floor causing me to arch my back and wince my eyes closed in pain. As I fight back the pain in an effort to get my eyes open and on target before im mauled, i hear uproarious laughter from a chorus of people but i ignore it in an effort to save my life, and spot the creature of nightmares, eyes still locked on me and squinting in preparation for the slaughter its about to wreak. The creatures mouth opens revealing a long snout full of three rows of sharp serrated teeth, and a horrifying sound escapes ¡°hee hee heeeeee!¡± it throws its head back, shoulders shaking in¡­ laughter? This fuckers laughing at me, one clawed hand still holding the bottle just offered to me, the other clutching its abdomen trying to keep from splitting into stitches. My face heats up and i feel like i want to crawl into myself as i try to work myself to my feet when I¡¯ve come to realize what''s just happened. It really was all just a prank. Quick update 2 Ep-lectic Buukazoo Hello, my good person. Alright, enough flattery. It¡¯s been about a month since my last chapter update, so I wanted to give yalls an idea as what the fuck im doing with my life to not be puttin out chaps yo. A lot of overtime at work tbh. So, how ive typically written until now has been a few hours long stretches mostly on the weekends but on weekdays as well if i''m particularly up for it. Lately I haven''t been able to do that, as i have maybe an hour or so to eat and shower after work then go to bed and rinse and repeat. This schedule has not only kept my weekdays unavailable, but also keeps me busy on my weekends to catch up on the typical life maintenance i used to be able to pick at throughout the week. I''m not trying to excuse myself, just to try and give you an idea of why im so late. Going further, I just want to make a point and say my story is not on hiatus. I am writing when I can, but im unused to the short periods of writing im having to do as opposed to the long stretches i''ve done before. It''s difficult for me because I only really pick up my pace typing and putting my words onto paper after an hour or so of going at it, so by the time I actually start making progress i have to stop, and just not much has been done because of this, certainly not as much as id hoped to have accomplished by now. Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. Even as I write this I should be asleep, but it really means a lot to me for some goddamn reason that someone might actually be looking forward to what im writing and is disappointed every time they refresh their bookmarks; I''ve done that enough to know what it''s like. So this is me just trying to keep y¡¯all in the loop, if there is a better way to do this in the future please let me know, as I have no idea what im doing, and I know putting this ¡®chapter¡¯ out might be a bitter experience for some, so id like to avoid disappointing you as much as possible in the future. As for the next chapter, once again I want to say it''s going slowly, but this weekend I''ll certainly try to set aside a good chunk of time to get the next chapter out A.S.A.P. Ok one last thing, the poll last chap was sort of inconclusive, on top of a few of you adding some new contestants. Hopefully I explained what the vote was about well enough, oddly enough, I get the feeling I fibbed what i was trying to say last time, but it works out so I''ll leave it alone. This new poll is just to add the other options, and hopefully also narrow down a clearer winner. Recapp/TL;DR: I''m so sowwy ??( ?????+)?? I wuv yuu ??? what fucking guns you want? ((¨p??©n??)) Ch. 9 In Hell, Hell Be in Good Company Brushing off my likely bruised butt, and definitely bruised ego i give a reluctant grin at the jubilant crowd around me and try to holster Belle before I think about how fast I could be the one laughing if only a loud pop would ring out and echo through these reverberating halls, and how easily said pop could be supplied. Not like i¡¯ve never been laughed at before, i work in a warehouse and guys laugh at guys fuck ups; we¡¯re all the FNG at some point of other. Still, it''s not really a feeling to get used to, and certainly not one I enjoy. After what feels like more time than would be strictly polite, the chuckles die down and the employees, store owners, and monk-types regain a semblance of professionalism, but the overall effect is still ruined by the mirth dappled among the group, disappearing and resurfacing like litter bobbing in the middle of an ocean. The only face that remains rather emotionless is the mask of the asshole wearing the lizard costume. fuck, that looks expensive. There has to be some sort of automation in there or maybe just clever puppeteering, but wow, A plus for effort and attention to detail, looks like a movie prop. Still, the body language on this guys gives away that he had a good chuckle in, even through the suit he''s wearing. The man in the lizard suit composes himself and once again reaches out to hand me the bottle he''s been holding so i go ahead and take it, open, and empty it, throwing caution to the wind to speed this process as quickly as I can. This one tastes different, spring water and popsicle sticks, and has a mouthwash burn down my throat. Lizy-liz approves judging by his nod, a sentiment echoed through the room, and honestly it makes me a bit unnerved; Vema didn''t react like that when I drank her weird ass concoction, now i''m getting some ¡®good, he drank the kool-aid¡¯ vibe, guess the good times just keep on rolling. Lizard guy starts chatting with the blanket party, and Dane does the same with the guys he brought, occasionally someone will give me a quick scan, at first i assumed to see if i dropped dead, but it''s soon apparent they¡¯re just recalling my fall as i see the grins surging onto their faces. god, that was like, three minutes ago, just forget about it already. The two groups¡­ well three if you count the ¡®guards¡¯ who followed us from the gate, are sort of keeping to themselves, but talking loud enough the other group could listen in if they wanted, no hushed whispers or shifty glances, so I guess these people have good familiarity with each other, not that i''m really surprised about that. As time slips by i notice slivers of the garbled gurgling these folks call a language start sounding understandable; snippets, bits and pieces, like looking at a picture of a rabbit then seeing a duck, the comprehension slips before i can even really catch it. Soon more and more starts to makes sense until it sounds like they are just placing nonsense words in normal conversation. God these people can talk, i get like a minute into a conversation then have to just sit in awkward silence because I could really give a damn about how their day went, and im sure the same goes for the other person so they don''t say anything either. Fake it till you make it? Nop, i will stay a jackass as long as it''s not inconvenient to do so. One of the people who was routinely scanning me noticed I was actually paying attention to the talks happening right in front of me, and gets the attention of the ¡®leader¡¯ of his group, Dane. Dane promptly does the exact same thing, and gets the attention of lizard boi, and both man and reptilian guy turn and walk up to me, both once again looking suspiciously eager. ¡°Got your balance there son? Want me to find that stick you brought with you to lean on? Haha, oh don¡¯t look so sour, never seen a Germa before? Don''t worry, I¡¯ve seen people do worse meeting our scaly friend here, still you could¡¯ve been more grateful with your greeting haha eh, ehem, anyway, this is¡­ well i can''t really pronounce his full name still, but ever since we¡¯ve met he''s gone by Jerum Pakeus, it''s more convenient you see? Now listen here Vascah you did something awful impressive not only with your bravery, but your capability, truly stunning. well, at least until that Fashea Couue knocked you on your keister, haha, but even then ya still came out atop, and not everyone who''s been put in a similar situation can say the same,¡± Dane leans forward, ¡°mostly ¡®cause they¡¯re dead. So, my friend, you impressed me, and anyone who donates valuable materials without so much as batting an eye is someone i can appreciate, and while keeping someone with your potential around would normally be my goal, I hold some gratitude toward ya, and Vema mentioned you had the peculiar notion of making it to the other side of them Greenpool Forests; lunacy to go through, yet still i gotta say a small part of me can¡¯t help but admire ya tried. If you want to get most anywhere in the continent, you ask me, i know this land better than most anyone, still, I don''t know everything, so for the things I don''t i have Jerum here, now I want you to take to heart what he says now, he''s not gotten where he is with just a passing knowledge, hes what you''d call an expert. Now Jerum, would you tell this young man there''s no way through that green hell and he should just take one of my caravans around, save us all a bit of time, and more likely than not, a life.¡± Well it''s good to know Dane still sounds like he stores marbles in his throat even when i can understand him, just a very rough voice, like a heavy smoker, though I¡¯ve yet to see or smell a cancer stick, or pipe on the guy. Jerum takes a couple steps forward, the sound of his ¡®claws¡¯ on his feet clanking on the polished floor and he stops beside Dane, giving him a meaningful look, i think, then turns to me, once more opening his massive maw, revealing the dozens of dozens of sharp teeth, and saliva? How the fuck did they get saliva in a costume, god this dude better pray the suit doesnt leak. ¡°Child, I can only echo sentiments you must have heard already, if you see going through Greenpool as something you must do, i cant say its impossible, but I would not be surprised if our paths only were to cross once more in the next plain of existence, nevermore in this one. Do you believe I can dissuade you from making such a perilous crossing with my words alone? Young ones can often have such thick skulls they forget the rest of them are still just flesh, meat, and sinew; a meal by any other name.¡± God, it''s getting tiring hearing people say that. I just shrug and nod, it seems to be the only thing I can do. Neither Dane nor Liz seem convinced they got through my ¡®thick skull¡¯ but both seem to understand im just not into this conversation. The groupies behind them seem to have the same conclusion but don''t take the information with the same grace, going off the look of general disapproval shadowing their faces. Sorry guys, I got bigger concerns than ¡®spooky forest: beware¡¯ stuff like ¡®i don''t know where i am and might¡¯ve just been drugged¡¯ seem more pressing Dane tactfully starts, ¡°Well, our letters sent, it''s up to you to open the gates for the messenger. For now you look like you could use a minute to clean up. Me an Jerum ¡®ere have some catching up to do, if you¡¯d like there¡¯re some heated baths here, some of the best you¡¯ll find outside the rulers own bathing quarters, after that we¡¯ll have a good chat about the future and have ourselves an early dinner. How''s that sound?¡± As much as I''d like a shower, I''ll be damned if I take one here, i just met these weirdies. i¡¯d rather have a rag bath at my truck, id feel a lot more secure. Actually i do still feel really gross so i think i''ll do just that, no sense in letting these cuts fester any longer anyway. I wave away the offer, hopefully in a way that says ¡®thanks, but no thanks fam,¡¯ then mimic my car starting, ¡°burcurcur-growow¡± and mime wiping myself down. All I get are some weird looks, so after a few seconds I give a little wave and turn, heading for the entrance. No-one stops me but i hear the sound of Dane and Jerum saying something echo off the walls, then a couple sets of footsteps pittering behind me. It''s one of Danes and Ferums guys respectively, both doing a little jog to catch up to me. Seems im destined to be followed by peoples lackeys till i finally jump ship. This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. Ok what am i gonna do? Disinfect cuts, bandage what i need to¡­ probably not i hate band-aids and i don''t think any of my cuts are actually that deep. Next, wipe down; i might need to put up curtains or something in my truck windows, i dunno. Maybe I can use Danes house? Then... i dunno a nap or something, i''m on vacation, fuck it. Listening to the inane chatter of my two tails i spot my truck in the distance with a small group of people who seem to be just looking at it like tourists gawking at a monument. I get it. My truck''s pretty sexy but typically I''m the only one who just stares in appreciation, i don''t know if i like this very much¡­ am i getting jealous over my truck? Yea, i''m starting to weird myself out, lets ignore this for now, bigger fish to fry. The people in the small gathering look the same as anyone else I''ve seen in this village, just now they¡¯re more¡­ not creepy, i dunno, unwelcome i guess, now that they¡¯re watching the place i''m trying to get to i feel really self conscious, afterall i don''t really look my sunday best you know? As expected the onlookers interest in my truck, and by extension, myself peaks as i work my way once again to the back and open the rear hatch and tailgate. Once more i try to phase out the collective awe as i look through my toiletries for sanitary wipes, soap, and a rag, then my first aid for antiseptic alcohol, neosporin, and a couple band-aids, just in case. Next i grab the first tightly rolled set of clothes out of my personal bag; the contents are a t-shirt with ¡®Pop Culture Reference¡¯ printed on the front, cotton cargo pants, white tank top, boxer-briefs, two pairs of socks, and a plaid flannel. I''m still a little impressed at how tightly i could roll this outfit so i could fit a few changes of clothes and then some, with a little bit of room for extra stuff in my bag. the whole getup isn''t really out of the realm of what i normally wear outside of my work uniform, i cant say im the most fashionable guy around, but by god it¡¯s a functional outfit, and i don''t really have to give a damn if i spill BBQ sauce all over myself, so that''s a plus. ¡®Course¡­ I''ll admit, it can get hot wearing all those layers, sooo there''s that I guess. Better than bug bites in my opinion¡­ not like the pants im wearing really helped with fending bugs. After a couple attempts gathering all my items in one go i decide the awkward way of carrying this stuff led to a strong possibility of dropping something in front of a crowd watching the back of my head, and were that to happen, it would haunt my lonely thoughts for a long time. Like when someone asks ¡®how''s it going?¡¯ and i reply ¡®thanks you too.¡¯ so, the obvious conclusion is; the whole situation would be best avoided altogether. With that line of thought i turn to my two satellites and quirk my finger at the cleaner looking one in a ¡®come hither¡¯ fashion, it happens to be the one in the robe, one of Jerum¡¯s guys, and try to get him to hold some of this stuff for me. It''s the least they can do if they¡¯re just gonna follow me around. The guy has a confused, then incredulous look as i foist most of my burdens into his arms, i do my best to remind myself there is no harm in relying on the people around you, turns out it''s actually decent advice. Hehe. As I make my way to Danes house I hear the guy behind me try to get my attention. ¡°sir, sir, you don''t expect me to ferry your luggage like a common porter do you? Are you ignoring me?¡± then in a much quieter voice, ¡°Just my luck, already placed beneath my station having to keep an eye on some muck covered philistine, now i have to carry his¡­ what is this?¡± As the bellhop gets acquainted with his new burden i make my way to Danes home and knock on the door, i don''t expect an answer right away because how big the place seemed when i last went inside, but i wasn''t expecting no answer at all. So while fighting off that feeling of awkwardness of being witnessed by a large group of people while caught in an avoidable blunder, the feeling i already have taken steps to avoid but apparently failed, i knock once more just in case, wait a short while, then decide i guess i don''t really need to disinfect my cuts, or clean myself up a bit, or change my cloths, or really feel like a person right now do i? So i walk back to my truck, take my things back from the bellhop, and place everything on top of the organized bags since i can''t be bothered putting everything back right now. I guess now''s as good a time for a nap as any other, so i go to the passenger seat leave the door open and pull the lounge lever, leaning way back to stare at my trucks light grey roof until i notice how hard it is to keep my eyes open. ¡­ I got a cat nap in, im sure i did, but after what feels like having my eyes shut for just a moment, the sound of a crowds cacophony quickly dissipates my grogginess and curiosity puts my fatigue to the wayside. Sitting up i don''t see anything unusual around me, aside from the two people who were trailing me sitting under a parasol on chairs that i''m certain weren''t around earlier. I get up, shut and lock my truck, and make my way towards the noise, unsure of what the hell would cause so many boring people to get so worked up. It doesn''t take long to find the gathering of people crowding around a stage put up in an open courtyard, i''m honestly surprised at the amount of people gathered here, I didn''t think there would be such a population density in a place like this. There''s someone on the stage talking about¡­ politics i think, i can hear him surprisingly well considering how far away i am and how many people there are, but i guess the magic of acoustics has always been a bit of a mystery to me, seems i''m just catching the end of what he has to say. I¡¯d like to ask someone what''s going on but i don''t think they¡¯d understand me either so i just try to observe. The speaker wraps up what he has to say, and I finally get an idea of what''s going on. ¡°So, fair city of PakeCrest, with your support through volunteer work or the purchase of militant shares there''s no doubt our great community can thoroughly- nay will completely stomp out anyone who might try to threaten all who live in this beautiful land.-¡± Someone nearby grumbles, ¡°and what the hell are we paying taxes for, eh? What''s our leader doing, begging for support for the military in this time of peace? Peh.¡± ¡°-then. Ahem. Now, for the vile criminals charged and judged with crimes deserving of capital punishment, as well as their sentences carried out by one of the Capitols prestegious Omimo Thaumaturges, Ven Mause Ottiva, take note, for this demonstration will show a mere iota of the power wielded by such potent personages. Now without further ado-¡± Someone else near me starts up, ¡°See, I told you it wouldn''t be a waste to come out for the aggregation this time, we get to see an Omimo in action and live to gab about it afterward, not everyone can say the same¡­ well i guess now they could too, but we get to see it ourselves instead of hearing about it from Gregor at the-¡± ¡°- and lastly¡­ loitering and for these crimes he will be put to death, may the heavens bear a heart strong enough to forgive him, as we ostensibly, do not. By your mark Ven Mause.¡± The stage now holds four more people, one by the speaker, and two holding a third in place on the other end of the stage. The one being held looks like ¡®The Thing¡¯ from Fantastic Four and seems decidedly unrepentant of whatever crimes he supposedly did. This kinda just proves this whole thing some weird set up to me though, i mean how ridiculous could this whole thing be? But whatever, might as well see where this is going. Ven stands there staring at The Thing when suddenly the rock man starts screaming bloody murder, i cant hear the scrams as well as i could hear the orator but its verry apperent, as the croud hushes to an eary quiet, and abruptly the screaming is cut off. The man still looks like he¡¯s trying to yell but no sound escapes as the two people who were holding him in place both take an alert step back, and the Thing thrashes in place, obviously in some sort of agony. Ven starts making some gesture with his hand in front of his face and abruptly, like a car in a compactor, the man crushes into himself, bluish liquid seeps out of cracks in his ¡®skin¡¯ and the full grown man is crumpled into the size of a basketball before my eyes. What the fuck!? Ch. 10 Smells Like Teenage Soul ¡°May he rest fitfully¡­ the next criminal-¡± Oh god, what the fuck just happened, how does someone get car-crusher-ed just standing around? That doesnt make any fucking sense. None of this makes any sense. Ahhh, fuck my head hurts. I feel nauseous. Just ugh-hmph deep breaths. ¡°Can''t wait to see how the next one meets ¡®is end, this is justice, criminals like these bein¡¯ put down by a real killer. M-¡± No-one else looks disturbed? Why? Is this a regular thing? Looking around all I see is solem looks and idle chatter, no shock, no outrage, just people standing around to watch an execution. I''m once again struck with a feeling of wrongness. I''m not meant to be here, but now it''s hard to just blame paranoia. People don''t act like this. This callous disregard, people talk big but when you see someone break their leg, you go check on them. When you see someone shot you call the police or an ambulance. When you see someone compressed to a kickball you freak the fuck out. Fine. Fffffyuck-it. Fuck all of it, I don¡¯t care. I''m leaving. Turning around, there''s a small crowd still gathering, blocking my way to my exit. I''m the only one turned away. Pushing my way through the crowd goes surprisingly smoothly as the crowd moves as I get close, they seem very conscious of their personal space. As i break from the thick of the crowd i see the two tails assigned to bother the fuck out of me. Well i haven''t seen a car anywhere so i bet they can''t keep up with my truck. I intend to find out. Making my way back I came, I see my truck still being ogled, but by less people than before. I also notice I forgot to shut the back, so walking up I give a look to see if something''s been stolen, I don''t see anything missing so i close the tailgate and move to the driver side door and get in. As I turn the ignition I see the duo walking up in a hurry, they seem to notice I''m bugging out and don''t look happy about it so I strap in my seatbelt and shift the gears. My surroundings liven up as the idlers standing around my car all show surprised faces while I roll on the gas and start peeling out. I hear shouting behind me but it''s already too far to really know what they¡¯re saying, I''m not going particularly fast but I''m way quicker than I need to be to outpace anyone behind me. Unfortunately I can''t keep my speed as the road, narrow buildings, and pedestrians conspire to keep me in this strange-ass place. I can''t move quickly, but i can keep moving and eventually i can see what i think is a way out of PakeCrest, at the end of a line of buildings. Uneventfully I get through the arbitrary border and stumble upon a problem I should have already thought out but thoroughly caught me off guard. I don''t know where I''m going or where I want to go to. I can''t think of anywhere else, I have to get back to my camping spot, I should be able to find my way back home from there. Something that makes sense there. A clue as to what the fucks happening. No zen, no fucking calm. Fuck it. I start a turn to make my way around the town to the road Dane brought me from, I keep looking at the town to see if I really can''t find ANYTHING normal, all that does is add to my anxiety as I spot nothing and further cements the helplessness in my gut. The bumpy offroading transfers to a slightly less bumpy road as I reach the path that brought me here, a bit hard to be sure because I haven''t really seen the road from this angle, but I doubt there are a lot of roads around here, and it does at least seem right. Am I being irrational? I think more people would be trying to get some information or something but that also seems like something victim number three in a horror movie would do. maybe it really all is just a big show, maybe a prank or, I don''t know some kind of game, but i can''t shake my gut telling me something ain''t right. I''m just a underpaid-lowclass-blue-collar worker. I fucking move boxes and complain about my boss, why do i gotta try to find out the right way to rationalize Hou-Funkin¡¯-dini turning people into his own personal fucking Bigweld collection? The scenery passes by much more quickly now i''m not stuck behind an ahmish convoy, not that i''m really interested in the sights right now, my attention wholly focused on avoiding large rocks in the road and going as fast as i feel safe doing. A joke, I''ve never felt this kind of dread before. An utterly unnerving, insidious premonition, that one of the idle nonsensical fantasies which flew through my imagination earlier today and was just as quickly forgotten might actually be a reality. Now that i¡¯ve given up on this trip i can''t hold back the feeling anymore that all i want to do is go home and spend the rest of my vacation holding Mia, see her smile, laugh, annoy her, make up. forgive her. and I resent myself for feeling this way. For feeling this way from the moment she told me. It fucking hurts, and its hard to breath again, i try once again to just forget and move on, no matter how much i want to, i wont forgive her. My mind doesn''t stop my brain from thinking about it no matter how much I plead to myself. Until the village comes into view. Getting here was a lot faster than going to PakeCrest, but i''m sure it was mostly because of how deeply i was in my own head. After a minute of the village silhouette rapidly growing, I watch as the villagers race out to line up in their usual greeting, but in a rushed manner since I guess I caught them a bit unprpared. It''s a wasted effort though, since i''m going to be driving straight past them on my way to the treeline that replaced the image of the village outline in the distance of my windshield. As I drive past the part of the little of the welcoming committee that actually managed to assemble in time, I see Nunu already at the front of the line, his trademark smile slipping as I blitz past the gathered villagers. I watch him take a couple tentative steps toward me in the rearview mirror as I drive past the village onward toward the forest just ahead. See you later you curious son-of-a-bitch, or i guess hopefully not, thanks though. Pulling up to the forest treeline, it takes a quick once over to find where i first drove my truck through but i find a definitive opening that seems to have been the only way i could''ve gotten out, so i take the plunge and drive through, feeling a bit like the kids going through the chocolate factory tunnel. It''s fairly easy to follow my trail, the roughed up foliage and tire treads are a dead giveaway, but i once again have to slow to a crawl due to the rough terrain, and while i can follow my trail i might mess up and start following the wrong path if i''m not careful. It almost feels like the forest is opening up in ways to lead me off away from my campsite. The trail opens up to familiar territory, the open area and the firepit make it clear to me this is my campsite, still a bit foreign to me since it really does look greener than when i set up camp. I don''t stop here, the road should just be a fifteen minute ride farther, then i''ll be on the path home. Wait, i can''t just go straight home can i? The image of that man silently screaming, thrashing, cements itself in the forefront of my thoughts. I gotta try to find out what that was, maybe let the police know if i can''t find any sort of renaissance, or LARPing events going on, at least before i go home, shouldn''t take too long and i''ll be going twenty over the speed limit all the way home. I don''t see the route that brought me up here, so i have to try a little trailblazing, no matter how much it bothers my outdoorsman sensibilities, i have to justify it to myself that it is kind of an emergency. The fifteen minute ride was a bad guess, I was going as close to the route as i reasonably could on this terrain, but i don''t see the dirt road that should lead me to the nearest highway anywhere, just more trees, more bushes, and more frustration. Twenty minutes in and I question if I''m going the right way. Thirty minutes later I pulled out my map of the area and a compass. The sun is beginning to set. North is wrong. Forty, and I think about how you¡¯re supposed to stay put when you get lost. An hour and I admit to myself I''m lost, and stop driving. Two, and a ground shaking belch cements the fear in my gut. I have no idea where the thundering noise came from. I take out the buckshot and load Freya with five slugs, and lock the doors. It''s starting to get dark, i don''t want to wait any more, i''m lost, afraid and am considering being naked as an alternative to these grimy, filth covered clothes. I give up on giving up. Turning the engine I start a u-turn back toward the village where the people are weird, but haven''t killed anybody as far as i know, i mean the bones in their hair and stuff was probably too small to come from humans i hope. Flicking on the headlights halfway through the turn I catch a glimpse of movement and follow the dashing figure as it races across my high beams, expecting to see a deer, or maybe a mountain lion. Instead I spot something that flashes memories of my childhood, watching King Kong late at night when i shouldve been in bed. The Natives in that movie bashing some poor bastards head on a rock told me it was a movie I probably shouldn''t be watching, but the part where the mustachioed badass gets swallowed piece by piece by the toothed worms was the part that stuck with me. That and the fucking centepedes eugh. Well, the stuff my little child brain could come up with to keep me up after watching that had nothing on these spine-tingling horrors. To keep it short, they seemed to be a mix of the two, the front third being a meter long eight inch thick toothed worm looking thing, the rear skittering on four sets of dozens of legs, the top had a split down the middle that reminded me of the beetles i killed earlier today, and my heart said a prayer they dont fucking fly. There are three of them. That i can see. ¡°Fuck.¡± My right foot acts before the rest of me can catch up and I start zooming faster than I would strictly call safe back through the forest I was wandering through just a couple hours earlier. The path is more difficult to follow once again but there''s really only two ways through and I sure as hell ain''t going to turn around again, plus the forest is a lot more thick than I realized, leaving the ¡®road¡¯ I made through the only practical way through. I hear a ¡®ch-ch-ch-chit¡¯ sound playing out behind me, swiftly echoed by the same sound in chorus all around. Not overly loud but the full sound coming from all directions has me suctioned to my seat due to strenuous butt clenching. If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.I keep my eyes on the ¡®road¡¯ and foot on the gas. After a short while of uneventful riding the sun has set and I start to feel a bit of mirth creep in my chest. Even if there were giant eldritch monster bugs, what would they want with me? Or rather why would they follow me? I let off the gas a bit to try to spare the wear on my truck. I regret that decision as a loud thump, dent, and black scythe crashes onto and through the roof of my ride, the scythe missed cutting my right ear off only due to the angle the blade entered my ceiling. The blade shifts and whatever its attached to tries to pull it out to no avail, its stuck waving about inches from my head. ¡°Im the only one who can put a whole in my truck, you fucking invertabre!¡± I thumb the safety off Belle and fire three rounds into my roof, keeping my eyes out the windshield the entire time. Oh, hey there Tinnitus, almost forgot about you. I hear a thunk near my rear passenger tire and it''s all the prompting I need to resume my panic driving I was doing just a minute earlier. More chittering sounds play out as i rev the engine and it feels like i''m dragging something, i don''t like that. I hit the breaks, reverse, and try not to think about the ungodly screeching that sounds as I roll over a bump that wasn''t there the last couple times I''ve been down this path today. As I shift back into drive one of the centi-worm things jumps out in front of my driver side window like a monster in a b-horror film. As any self respecting patron of the arts would do, I offer my own humble addition to the spooky atmosphere by letting out a slightly higher pitched yelp than intended. I also turn Belle on the cause of my newfound shame and fire off two more rounds through my car door at the horror. The first round hits and the second goes sailing high, as the creature recoils in pain. I dont wait to find out if my lucky hit killed the thing as i''m already driving back over the bump and through the previously driven through forest, the chittering sounds again as i pull out but fades quickly, hopefully because they aren''t moving. Part of me wants to roll down the windows if only to alleviate the noise that rings out when I fire my handgun in the cab, but that seems an awfully foolish thing to do given the probably flesh eating mammoth sized insects inhabiting the forest. Fuck, i hate regular sized bugs enough, this is just fucking stupid. The bugs don''t seem keen on trying their luck as I''m moving at a decent clip so as I''m moving I flick the safety on and drop the magazine in Belle and shimmy around trying to grab the spare magazine from my back pocket, which is a bit harder to do than I anticipated. The new magazine doesn''t want to go all the way into the mag well and the thought that fully loaded mags don''t like to fit into a closed slide ponderously plops into my thought process. So I''m forced to brace the front sight against my middle console and rack the slide. I watch the unspent 45. cartridge that was in breech shine as it flips end over end through the air onto my passenger seat, then i flip up the slide hold-open, click the magazine into place and press the slide release, while listening to the satisfying clack and and feeling the affirming jolt of the slide running forward to place a new cartridge into breech. Mmm love that smell. I still don''t hear anymore chittering but I''ve got that feeling in my gut that I''m not, hehe, out of the woods yet. A dark green sludge drips onto my shoulder through one of the holes in my roof. Mmm disgusting. I think I see my campsite, it''s still a bit hard to tell, I''m gonna go straight past, no stopping in these woods anymore. As I roll past my campsite and I unintentionally let my guard down a bit, after all it''s only a bit farther to the village. That was a mistake. Boulders block my path. Boulders that were not here earlier, unless i''m lost again. I have no choice but to slow to a stop. I holster Belle, grab Freya, a headlamp, and get out, shutting the door but leaving the lights and engine on. There¡¯re about half a dozen boulders I can see in the way. And they are in the way judging by my old tire tracks lead underneath them. They range from the size of a love-seat to the larger of the villagers'' rock houses. Huh, they even look like the same stone the villagers made their homes from. I scan the darkness for any movement, but don''t see anything moving. Gulping my trepidation down, I turn on my headlamp and circle the boulders hoping against all hope I see a crane or something that could''ve moved these rocks. Nothing, no heavy equipment, no drag marks, no uprooted trees, just a goddamn miracle. I start back toward my truck intent on finding a way around. A belch thunders behind me. Buuuuurrrrraapp Deep and menacing. I can''t help but think it''s the sound a towering dragon from a story might make after a particularly satisfying meal. Reluctantly I turn around expecting a new fresh hell, but nothing greets me as I scan the area. I wait. Utter silence once again aside my suddenly heavy breathing. Silent as the forest was the night before. But much more cold. One of the boulders shift, it''s surreal seeing something that should way tons lift a couple inches off the ground, rotate, and start ¡®hovering¡¯ toward me with no obvious force acting on it. Setting the obligatory StarWars reference aside, I have had just about enough of shit charging me today, so without second thought I level Freya and squeeze the trigger, hoping nothing ricochets off. Of course nothing happens when i squeeze because i forgot to take off the safety, like a fuckiNG MORON! Fingering the button safety and firing at the bottom half of the surprisingly mobile boulder, gives me a stiff shove in my shoulder and the sight of the boulder dropping, even if only a couple inches. The fallen boulder gives the image as if it¡¯s tripped, hitting the ground it cuts a furrow and the momentum it had tips the slab toward me before settling back on its own weight and ceasing to move altogether. The hole I shot into it is just a blue-black tunnel almost an inch in diameter seeping a trail of viscous gunk. I rack Freya and run to the truck, I can''t really see anything due to how dark it is, my headlamp isn''t doing as much as id like, but given id like to be any-fucking-where else its enough to get where I''m going. I hop into the driver''s seat and ignore the seatbelt in favor of just going. More Burraaps sound behind me as I try to navigate through the trees, then that spine-tingle works through my system again as the ch-ch-chittering rattles all around. I try to focus on finding a way out. I decide I''m not on a movie set because the person who sacrifices themselves to the horde usually has a reason to do so. Probably not a prank either because if it was i''m not above threatening a lawsuit at this point. And a convention of some sort? Please, the only thing i''d be afraid of at a fair or event would be the B.O. So? What''s left? What explains all this shit I''m going through? It''s almost like I woke up in a different dimension where there''s lizard people and giant insects. That''s some bullshit, out of all the made up worlds from movies and stuff I get giant bugs. Fucking wack yo. Just my fuc- oh fuck, fuck off you godamn beetles! ahh! Two rounds ring out through my door again dislodging the familiar beetle clinging to my vehicle. I''ve more or less broken the siege surrounding me just by driving through but they really don''t want to give up it seems. I''ve got to be close to the edge of the forest now. Then what? I''ll be able to get away faster but don''t some insects follow you until youre a certain distance away from their nest? How far have I driven already? Far enough I''m sure. Fine. concussion, dream, hallucination, prank, a different fucking world. Doesn''t matter. i''m not gonna get eaten by no goddamn insects. If I''m not in my world then I''m gonna fight fire with fire, Or in this case unbridled insect aggression with unrestrained rage sourced from a broken heart, a persistent headache, fear, and male hormones. They dont stand a fucking chance. I pick up the pace even faster, between the poor lighting, adrenaline, and rough terrain i lament the rough treatment of my shocks, but I''m determined. The chittering and belches fade into the background but I hold my pace. Soon enough the treeline opens up. The Woods open up to the clearing between here and Nunus village. I keep driving almost 100 meters away from the border then slow and turn around pointing my truck and lights back to the forest entrance I just drove through. I leave the truck running once again, grab Freya and run to the trunk pulling out the sleeve holding Eleah, and my gun bag, heaving both i throw them on the truck roof. I ready to close the trunk but hold for a moment¡­ I grab my woodspliting axe and toss it on the roof as well and leave the trunk open as I run to my truck''s hood and throw myself on. As I stand to jump on the roof I almost screech and fire Freya again, but wind up just freezing. One of the bugs'' silhouettes sits on the roof and I level Freya as I fumble for the button on my headlamp. It switches on and I breathe a sigh of relief to see the thing is dead already. It looks like some kind of mix between a scorpion, moth, and a mantis. Wide torso, moth head, and long extremities, its black and one arm is plunged through my truck''s roof; the culprit that stabbed a scythe through my roof. It looks like I''ll have a partner for the bloodbath. I scramble up, trying to avoid touching the corpse and move to the gun bag grabbing my electronic earmuffs first, it''s about to get loud. I open all the pockets, its holding most of the magazines for all my weapons, as well as a couple handfuls of shells. I grab the axe and swing it into the torso of the corps so if i need it i can grab it nice and easy, i shove a couple more shells into Freya and set her down propped against the bug and the axe, top up off my magazine for Belle, and slide Eleah out of her sleeve, beautiful. Eleah, my FN FAL purchased at bargain price from an aging coworker whose conditions to buy were I take good care of her, and she keeps her name. Sight unseen. I snap in the magazine holding 20 7.62x51mm cartridges and rack the slide, once again my chest flutters over the sound and satisfying clack of one of the rounds sliding into breech. Mmmm. As I settle into a crouch I keep my eyes peeled and ears open, waiting. I know they¡¯re coming and this time I''m not going to be caught off guard. This time I''m ready. This time I know what''s wrong. Im mother fucking zen. Ch. 11 If You Are Gonna Be Dumb, You Gotta Be Tough All I hear is my breath. Almost raspy despite the fact I haven''t literally been running away; it''s distorted slightly from the feedback in my electronic earmuffs. All I hear is my breath, and my heartbeat. The rhythmic thumping just under my jaw, and what sounds like the marching of thousands of soldiers thrumming out in my head. I try to swallow the lump in my throat, but my mouth is dry, dry like a sponge under a heat lamp. The air is cool, yet sweat beads my brow, then soon swells and, under its accumulated weight, slides down my temple, cheek, jaw, then down to the beating source of the marching in my ears. One could argue all of these being symptoms of fear, but I''m not afraid, I''m mad. I''ve been afraid a lot today, but that''s not the emotion that made me stop driving away. It''s not what made me park my truck, and it sure as all fucking hell isn''t what made me throw an arsenal on my roof and clamor up after it. I''m mad, furious, and this may not be a healthy state of mind, but for the first time in my life I can vent my anger on something and I don''t need to feel guilty when they don''t get back up. I''m allowed to be angry, aren''t i? I''m pulled from my thoughts as I see movements in the treeline, shadows dashing through the dim rays my headlights cast on the foliage. That''s it at first, just vague, blurry silhouettes dashing back and forth, soon more and more show, flitting to an¡¯ fro. Rustling branches and leaves start echoing through the night at increasing intensity, soon joined by the hateful chittering of the beetles, the cacophony immediately setting me to grind my teeth in annoyance. I aim at the treeline, one of the more active openings I see creatures flitting past and try to find a pattern in their timing as they run out of the foliage. Muzzle flash and a thunderclap flare out and the noise stops before the spent shell hits the ground. That''s right fuckers, I''m right here. One high pitched screech echoes from The Woods, swiftly followed by dozens more, then accompanied by chittering, howling, and grumbling, loud enough to activate the sound damping in my earmuffs. Loud enough to feel in my chest, and the slight trembling of my truck. Loud enough to slightly temper my unrepentant rage. Slightly. They break from the treeline, 130ish meters out, maybe fifteen beetles, a coincidence? They¡¯re followed by a similar number of the moth mantises, which hop forward like crickets. Granted, I''ve never seen a cricket get almost five meters in the air, or crash back to the ground in a plume of dust. I''d rather not wait to see what else is coming out of the treeline so i tighten Eleah to the crook of my shoulder and sight one of the beetles on the far right of the line moving toward me. my breathing becomes deliberate, inhale, exhale, inhale, hold, aaand squeeze. Flash, pop, shove, splat, and crash. A smile blossoms on my face. There''s too many to try and take my time for every shot, so I give the best rapid fire drill I can and I work my way down the line, one by one. At this range, these aren''t difficult shots, even with moving targets, they tend to be larger than the torso sized papers I usually use at the range. CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK Shot by shot, round by round, hit after hit, the insects emerged from the trees, fall, stumble, and pop on their charge through my headlights. Of course I don''t hit every shot, one, two, miss, six, seven, graze, but the corpses stack at a steady pace and before I know it the trigger clicks and there¡¯s no boom to comfort me with its light. Nothing louder than a click when you expect a boom as they say, but this time I already have ammunition ready to grab. I slide the bottom of my left hand under the trigger guard forward and press into the magazine release then continue pushing, easily ejecting and flinging the empty magazine out of the way. A small part of me laments the possible damage from the magazine clattering off the top of my truck and to the ground below. I''m already fishing in my ammo bag for the next box before the last hits the dirt, but as i try to rock the magazine into the gun something feels off and i start cursing myself out as i slap the stuck, inverted box in an effort to free it from the opening usually called its home but in this moment, its prison. Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. The rounds can''t make it! Mag stuck, mag stuck! please! I beg you! You genu-ine dick sucker! With one last desperate swat to the back of the stuck magazine it breaks loose and falls to the truck roof, so I scramble for a replacement, feeling the round in the opening of the mag, I use that as a guide and finally rock home a fresh 20 rounds of 308. Goodness. This wave is almost finished, only a few bugs hopping and skittering still, but they are a little close for comfort, the closest is a beetle halfway through crossing my headlights, and the others aren''t far behind. I stand from my crouch to get a higher view and without delay Eleah is once again shouldered. Like fish in a barrel, I wouldn''t miss if i wanted: CRACK. The nearest bug recoils away from me with a fist sized hole right where its head was resting not even a second ago, black sludge spewing in more directions than you''d think, and the feral grin on my face widening, to the point of hurting. Snapping to the next target, the next round is downrange fast as fast does, and a similar scene plays out, beetle juice spilling out of a brand new canoe-ized bug. That''s when things stopped going so well for me, as expected. Vertigo, then once again I crash onto my back, this time slamming my head hard enough on the roof of my truck to see stars, and knock the earmuffs off my head. A deep groan ekes from my chest and I feel my right leg being tugged on hard, but I can''t make out exactly what is throwing me around, though it''s not hard to guess. I feel like a chew toy as I''m tugged toward the side of the roof, almost being pulled to the ground, but i have faculties enough to have held onto Eleah and jam her barrel hard into the bug and promptly fire four rounds into the jackass numming on my feetsies. The flash from the fired rounds show the culprit to be one of the moth-mantis bastards, now basically in a state that can be described as ground beef, laying next to the corpse that was already sharing the space up here. My poor ears. A short breath to catch my¡­ breath, and i clamor to my knees, already spotting the last of the beetles scampering past my headlights into the sea of darkness surrounding me from all other sides, then move to stand again. with a short yell, my legs collapse under me and I crash onto the oldest corpse on the roof with me. Ehh, it''s fuzzy. What''s wrong with my fucking feet gawdamnit. I slide my hand down my left leg and can''t tell anything out of the ordinary, then do the same to the right and¡­ oh. Oh that''s really bad. There''s nothing below the knee. The cocksucker ate my leg. That wasn''t supposed to happen? I''m staring into the empty space where my leg should be when a clacking noise thrums its way into the forefront of my consciousness. No, I can''t hear it, I can''t hear anything; I can feel it in my chest, and the rocking of the truck. movement in the darkness shifts in front of me as the vibration grows and that''s all the prompting i need to wing a shot at whatever sucking soul that wants to die next. They are obliged, violently. The flash gives me a glimpse at three more already cresting the sides of my truck, without aiming, as many shots more ring out, then one more to correct a miss. The musky stench makes the air feel heavy, and the scummy lifeblood of the bugs splurge in all directions, coating my already sullied body with yet another layer of grime. I lay on my back wondering if I''m not hearing anymore sound because I''m alone or deaf. I sit for a moment longer than I''m comfortable with, then fire another round in the air, looking around to see what I can see. After the flash i lay in the darkness and think about what kind of accidental magic trick i pulled to make it feel like i lost my own leg ¡®You¡¯re a wizard, Vasco.¡¯ My aching cheeks numb as the grin masking my face stretches even further, a laugh from deep,deep in my stomach bubbles out, already i feel my sides taking off into orbit as Eleah slips from my hands and i roll onto my side clutching my abdomen to stave off the laughing pains. Eventually my laugh subsides enough, that i feel safe to try wiping the grin off my face physically. I bring my hands to my face to force my cheeks into submission, but it''s hard to do it comfortably because my hands are shaking so hard against my face I feel like I''m slapping myself ten times a second. My fingers are jolting, like placing ice cubes against my skin¡­ i realize i don''t have strength enough to hold my hands against my head, let alone sit up to protect myself. I''m cold. I''m so cold¡­ Ch. 12 Black Hole Sun It''s a gorgeous day. It''s not everyday the desert has a nice overcast. Dark clouds are swirling overhead, and the stormy atmosphere is something I unironically love. It''s warm but not too hot under the summer rain clouds and the gusty winds. Stormy weather just makes the whole state feel like it''s taking a giant sigh of relief from the normally overbearing summer temperatures, and the heavy smell of creosote bushes is so pleasant I just can''t seem to take deep enough breaths to satisfy. Being out in nature is always a treat to me, especially so on such a beautiful day like this. Even more so with the company I keep. Everyone. Everyone who is someone to me is on this quail hunt wandering through the desert to kill little birdies. My dear sister to my left, wearing an unsuitable outfit like she''s going to run to the office at a moment''s notice. My friends beyond her, those who I grew up with, and those I met throughout my life, from games or work. Most of them have never met each other before but they all talk and jockey between themselves as if they have all been close for years already. Then even beyond them co-workers, mentors, teachers. The people who granted me the knowledge to get by in life, who gave what they could to see me succeed. I don''t think I ever gave them the respect they deserved despite their kindness. To my right Mia hovers so near that a stray swing of my arm might hit her, and I have to be conscientious of how I''m walking because of that. It''s actually a bit uncomfortable. My parents trail behind her, uncharacteristically not yelling, at me or each other. Mias friends are farther down that line, walking and talking as normal, though I feel like I catch a few guilty looks thrown my way occasionally when I look back. Even beyond them walk some bad teachers, a shitty boss and someone who hated me at work, I never thought much of him either. We trek through the desert, almost shoulder to shoulder, eyes peeled to try and spot the well camouflaged birds. I clutch Freya and keep the meandering pace. I''m the only one in the line with a gun so I try to stay extra vigilant. The sound of the hard ground crunching under my boots, sounds almost booming in the quiet of the open country, though thankfully it seems the wind might mask the worst of the noise. Everyone walking makes a different sound, my sister the clack of heels on hardwood, my friends sound like sneakers on asphalt, Mia walks as if wearing socks on carpet. Everyone is holding a conversation with someone, be it their walking neighbor or shouting questions to someone else in the line, the exception is Mia who is as silent as her footsteps. Something in me feels like I should be bothered by the noise, this is a hunt afterall, though for whatever reason I don''t mind the cacophony. With the weather and everyone being around I suppose the hunting part of the trip is secondary at this point, it''s just nice being out here and with everybody. I soon spot a bird through a bush, it''s a marvel the guy hasn''t gone to ground between the weather and the noise we all make but it won''t be but a few feet closer before he starts running so I ready Freya and crouch walk quickly as I dare to get a better shot. As I do I feel the rain finally break free from the clouds, just a beginning few drops heralding the start to a desert storm. I find a spot and take aim before the quail can flee, shouldering Freya and beading the bird in front of me. As I squeeze the trigger and ready to fire the wind picks up and blasts a cloud of dust into my eyes and I flinch, firing birdshot feet away from the target and becoming temporarily blinded ¡°Damnit!¡± I shout into the gusting wind as I blink and wipe the dust from my watering eyes. That was likely to be the last chance at a bird for the day so I turned toward the group I left behind. ¡°Lets head back to the truck, it¡¯s gonna start raining and i doubt we¡¯ll find anything else to shoot at today.¡± As I finish clearing my eyes I look to the line of friends, family, and acquaintances I ran ahead of only a moment ago and find nobody there. I look left, then right and only see desert and rain clouds as far as my vision ranges. ¡°Hello?¡± ¡­ ¡°Guys?¡± ¡­ Nothing. ¡­ No one. Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. My spine chills and something in my mind screams at me ¡®RUN¡¯ I oblige. I run. I run without thought. I run through the empty desert. I run as the clouds darken even further and begin their downpour. I drop Freya so I can run faster. The wind picks up, now blowing warm raindrops into my face as I start heaving with exertion. The sun dips behind the horizon and now I can only see feet in front of me. I run into bushes and trip over dead wood and rocks but I can''t stop. I feel it. If I stop running something terrible will happen. I can feel it inches behind me giving chase. I can feel the cold following me, scraping my spine and chilling my body as I flee. My clothes soak quickly from the rain and I wish I could stop for only a moment so I could strip the sopping burden clinging to my skin. I feel my boots loosen, and after a few unsteady steps they fly off my feet into the darkness. I keep running. It''s almost caught me. As I run for my life I feel my feet numb, and melt away in chunky globbing red droplets. every pump of my legs flinging more and more of myself away into the darkness surrounding me. It''s not long before I''ve tripped and fallen painfully onto my front, my melting legs trailing behind me, but I keep myself from looking, afraid of what the mutilation will look like. Afraid of what has been running me down and if it is watching. I crawl. Blindly reaching out before me and grasping anything to pull myself forward. Away from it. The ground is muckey from the rain and slips under my frantic grasping, but I feel myself moving so I keep crawling frantically through the mud and bushes. I stab my hands on the harsh plant life of the desert and leave long cuts down my body as I pull myself over the sharp bark and through thorny bushes. I feel a hole in the ground, a burrow, and I throw myself into it, hoping for the safety of shelter. It feels like I''m a dishrag being wrung out as I fall deep into the burrow. Like my bones are being turned to liquid the farther I fall into this pitch black hole. As soon as I hit the floor my body painfully pops back to solid. I heave, my breathing is raspy and I feel more drained than I have ever felt in my life. But I''m okay here. I don''t know why but for now I''m safe. I sit up on my elbows and stare down at my legs. Or I would if they were there. There is nothing under the lower third of my thighs on either leg, just torn jeans soaked in rain and blood hanging loose on the ground. I simply stare and try not to think about the gushing wounds torn down my chest. A crimson pool blossoms around my body as I lie there. Movement draws my eye, and out of the pitch black a jackrabbit lopes carelessly into my sight. He spots me and turns his head away to stare at me with one eye, positioned as if ready to dart back into the black. He soon lowers his guard and continues moving toward me. He stops at the edge of the pool of blood surrounding me and bows his head to drink, staring at me as he scoops tiny pools of my blood into his mouth, until soon it stains around his muzzle, and drip trails down the rabbits front. He stops drinking and stares at me again. ¡°You aren''t dead you know.¡± the Jackrabbit says to me in a ghostly voice. ¡°I could be, what do you know?¡± I replied. ¡°You aren''t dead but you will be. It''s watching you, as it does all living things.¡± ¡°What is?¡± ¡°You must accept your fate.¡± ¡°What fate?¡± ¡°Whatever life you had is gone. Move on.¡± ¡°Why should i?¡± ¡°Move on, accept that you will never go back.¡± ¡°...¡± ¡°Accept you will never go back, or be devoured.¡± ¡°Accept your fate or be devoured.¡± ¡°Devoured by the world itself.¡± As the Jackrabbit finished talking, a violent earthquake begins, I look up at the opening of the burrow, and see chunks of earth and dirt fall from the entrance. I look back and see the jackrabbit flee back into the dark. I start climbing, grasping at the earth just as desperately as before, clawing to bring myself inch by inch closer to the entrance before the earthquake of massive proportions seals me in this churning grave. The dirt burns like acid as I get closer and closer to the entrance, i see it melting the skin on my hands and eating away at the sinew, but I climb on all the same trying to use the pain as fuel to push me further and faster to escape. knuckle by knuckle digit by digit my fingers fall away with every violent spurt of the earthquake, and soon I resort to simply jamming my now handless forearms into the dirt to get purchase and leverage my body onward. I''m down to the elbow as I finally wrench myself over the mouth of the pit and sigh as I rest my head in the mud and stare up into the rain. The earthquake picks up and it''s all I can do to give a damn, but I try to crawl farther away from the pit for fear of falling back in. The wind has reached hurricane speeds though and as I try to move it catches me and whisks me into the air. I twist and tumble through the air, unable to see what''s above or below me. The rushing torrent sucks the breath from my lungs and I suffocate. The whipping wind strips the flesh from what''s left of my body, I''m being torn apart piece by piece. ¡­ It feels like eternity, but eventually I feel myself crash back into the dirt. The storm is over. Not only is it over but it''s as if it never happened. It''s noon, the sun is high in the sky, shining on the bone dry desert floor, and I''m a chunk of meat cooking on it. The heat is not only coming from above but the ground itself is so hot that it may as well be a frying pan. I sear and my face melts into the ground. That''s all that''s left of me now. I look up into the grey eyes of a dead bull. ¡°First time?¡± he says to me.