'Samson' Chapter 14 'Run.......now'

Chapter 14 ‘Run…….now’

 

 

The sickness subsided as he spat out the remnants from within his throat; he could still feel his throat thick with mucus when he caught a movement out the corner of his eye.  Without any hesitation his attention was drawn to the movement; his face now concentrated on the forest where he had just seen something move!  A man entered the meadow, he wore combat trousers and was topless even from this distance his scarred torso could be seen; on his head he wore a red baseball cap.  Akecheta knew instantly who the man was; he looked around the meadow and nodded to himself this is a good place to die…a good day to die!

The Mexican came into the meadow; his walk oozed confidence; Akecheta moved his hand down to his leg to the hilt of the Bowie knife; his palm felt the hilt, then it tightened itself around the handle.  He breathed in deeply through his nose, the Mexican was around two hundred metres away, even from that distance Akecheta could see the scar around his neck and the one which ran down his eye and onto his cheek; his whole torso was full of scars what kind of battles has this man fought?  The Mexican continued walking toward the middle of the meadow as Akecheta waited for his death yes this is a good place to die!

Without any warning Akecheta was back on the ridge there were no buffalo anymore they had all disappeared into nothingness; the plains were empty, now it was just Akecheta and Annawan, it all seemed like slow motion.  Annawan’s face seemed older than he remembered; his wrinkles more prominent he looked into Akecheta’s eyes ‘Watohanl Unkis Iyayekiya Kize Acajt (sometimes we runaway and fight tomorrow).’

Akecheta was afraid but his honour and his tribal history were within his thoughts ‘Hemaca Sni Kokipe Annawan (I am not afraid my chief).’

Annawan nodded sadly ‘Yaye Wana Kiya Ohasko Kize Acajt Nistuste Kici Nitawa Oyate Kice Miye (go now; fly quick, fight tomorrow; run for your people, for me).’

Everything had disappeared Akecheta was back in the meadow staring at his advancing foe; evil emanated from his stature as he moved through the ankle length grass what kind of devil is this man?  Akecheta had to get away; there was no dishonour in running; Annawan had told him too; fight tomorrow were his words and perhaps they were wise words perhaps this was not the right time to fight, perhaps Akecheta was not ready and the warning was serious?  His hand released its grip on the hilt of the Bowie knife; he turned and began sprinting away from the advancing Mexican; his mind was made up he would fight tomorrow; now he would run for his life, for his whole being depended on it!

With legs as light as feathers he crossed the meadow without once looking behind him at one point he had thought that the Mexican was right on his tail; but then the feeling had disappeared.  He reached the undergrowth on the other side instantly disappearing into the greenery; once inside he chanced a look behind; he could see the Mexican standing above the shard remains of his demonic ally.  His face full with rage and intent he began running toward the forest; toward Akecheta, who turned on the spot instantly and began running through the forest, through the thick undergrowth as though the hounds of hell were hard on his heels for that was the reality, they were…..Akecheta was being chased by the Devil himself!  Now was not the time for thinking, now was not the time for fighting, now was the time for running and Akecheta now ran for his life, just like Samson the boy he had been sent to protect.  But now it was all for nothing it was a hopeless situation, the devil was running on the air of corruption, on the air of everything evil, its ally was pain and fear; the fear which now emanated from Akecheta.

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Samson ran and ran following the hawk which flew high above the tree-line, every now and again he would lose sight of the majestic bird but then it would reappear through one the breaks in the canopy overhead.  He heard shots in the distance and knew instantly that his new friend was dead, he had not seen any gun on the Indian named Akecheta; Samson was on his own again, running for his life, for survival, for hope and goodness.  The mountain that Akecheta had told him to head toward was looming overhead; he wondered how far he had actually run since he had left his new found friend?  The leaves he had eaten had given him a real good energy boost as he progressed quickly through the forest; jumping logs and landing with ease and with a start he was off again; running, stopping and running again.  His thoughts eventually turned to all the people he had lost over the last three days three days, is that all it’s been?  Seems like so much longer his mind went through the process of working out the first night they came to the cabin, the second night I was in the cave and then again last night I spent it in the cave ‘yes three nights’ he whispered through gritted teeth as he continued forwards.  Three nights since you first saw these evil men and since then everyone you’ve known or met has ended up being killed, first Mom, Dad and Candice then the old couple in the campervan and now the Indian named Akecheta ‘you’re a dangerous person to know Samson Baker!’ he panted.

The hawk was ever present in the skies above as Samson ran and ran toward the looming mountain; soon the forest and the mountain would merge into one.  Samson prayed that his new friend and ally had died quickly and although he thought it was perhaps a bit selfish he also prayed that Akecheta had bought him a little time?  Although the sun shone brightly above Samson realised that evening was not too far away where will I sleep tonight? Without even realising it he had reached the mountain and was now manoeuvring up the gradient which was now fairly rocky and sparse; pebbles and dusty sand moved under his feet as he moved upwards and sideways on.  Samson had already made up his mind to skirt around the base then move higher; if he could get high enough he could probably see how the landscape faired in the distance!  This would give him an idea of the best direction to head; he may even see a road or even a town; his hopes were slowly rising again, Samson felt he could maybe see an end to his nightmare?

The hawk had now disappeared as Samson carried on his gradual march and climb; his arms and head burned from the heat of the sun making him unsure on whether to take off his t-shirt and wrap it around his head again?  Common sense then told him that his back would burn; it did not matter what he did something would burn; he decided to pull the neck of the t-shirt over his head but still keeping the t-shirt on his body; that way only the small of his back would be exposed!  The hope he felt earlier was beginning to subside as he moved slowly around the mountain; his feet sliding several times, causing him to fall onto his side more damn bruises and scrapes!  Samson cursed himself for leaving everything behind, he had no water, no coat, no torch anymore, no food, no rucksack, it was all gone, all his possessions in the world were what he had on him; boots, socks, pants and trousers and a soaking wet t-shirt and the rolled up blanket that Akecheta had given him………..and the pouch that he had also been given! At least he would not be so cold tonight; the blanket would come in quite handy of that he was one hundred per cent certain. 

Step after relentless step he plodded forward; not even realising that he was crying.  He now walked unsteadily; wearily his whole body was beaten, the pain he felt from bruises, blisters and aches was now beginning to wear him down; his morale dipping severely; hope had deserted him and most of all he was feeling like God had deserted him.  His throat was dry again, every breath he took burned his trachea; his throat pleaded with him to give it water but again he had left that behind ‘stupid, stupid, STUPID!’  He cursed hoarsely, Samson slipped again this time he landed on his funny bone the feeling that shot down his arms made him want to vomit as he rolled about on the dusty slope, the pebbles burning his naked back.  The sun beat down on his face as he closed his eyes and just lay there motionless on his back; Samson wanted his world to end; he was beaten; he was defeated ‘just take me’ he whispered to nothing and no-one. 

When Samson next opened his eyes it was dusk as the sky now began turning to night; how long he had been asleep he had no idea but although he could feel blisters around his lips and his face felt like a radiator he at last felt a little more refreshed.  The sleep had done him well, now he needed to start walking again what if they’ve caught up with me?  It was too late now he had already slept if they were out there watching him they would have taken him, so he figured that it was common sense to say he was still on the run?

Samson decided to carry on walking now that he had rested; he would walk until it was too dark to see anymore then he would hold up wherever he found himself, wrap him up in the patterned woollen blanket and continue in the morning.  He stared hard down the two hundred metres he had climbed; looking for a sign that they were there, but he could see no sign of anything; he looked skywards for the hawk but that too had deserted him; he was on his own again as dusk began to settle!  Yep Samson we’re on our own again just me and me!

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The Mexican screamed a deathly scream then began running through the meadow; like hell was pushing him forward; Akecheta had already turned and was now sprinting faster and faster, he could hear the wind on his tails as he ran.  Jumping over rocks and boulders he felt that he could feel the Mexicans breath on his neck as he progressed through the undergrowth; branches snapped behind him.  Still Akecheta ran and ran and still the sounds of his adversary were gaining; now he landed on a path and began running un-obstructed for around seven hundred metres, never once chancing a look behind.  There was no need to look over his shoulder he could hear that the Mexican Devil was only now twenty metres behind him; up ahead Akecheta made out a drop; there was a loud sound from below the drop?  With each step Akecheta knew what the cause of the sound was; he would soon be at the river; if he stopped he was done for; there was no way he could fight the Mexican, not yet.  Annawan had told him not to fight yet and there must have been a reason; fear egged him on encouraging him to run even faster than he already was; but still the sound of the Mexican was gaining!

On and on he ran rounding corner after corner until he saw the river flowing off into the distance; it was white water now that blocked his route as he approached the drop; his pace never let up as he reached the drop; once he reached the tipping point he jumped.  Leaping the seven metre plunge; there were rocks everywhere below him as he descended downwards toward his doom!

The Mexican now reached the edge of the drop and stopped instantly watching the Indian as he plummeted to his certain death; he saw his initial landing; just missing a large rock; his body was then taken by the current.  The Mexican watched smiling to himself as the Indian crashed into rock after rock; parts of the rapids began turning red from blood as the Indian was swept away floating, then sinking in the current.  With a laugh he watched the Indians body disappear down the river; his attention was now drawn back to the boy, time to go hunting again; he glanced upwards into the sky, night time was nearly here, he walked off back into the forest. 

Akecheta was in the hands of the Gods as he plummeted toward the water below; the rocks were everywhere as he landed feet first in the rapidly flowing river; his landing just missing a large rock.  The current grabbed him and threw him into a curved rock just below the surface; the impact had the wind pushed from his body, he was then thrown into another rock.  Then the current had him spinning; his head connected with a jagged piece of rock; its sharp shards pierced his scalp as he struggled to breath; struggled to regain some control.  His eyes were full of blood and the froth from the rapids as he tried to keep his head above the water.  Then the current took him toward another large group of rocks; this time he managed to turn his body so his legs took the impact of the first one; his body twisted as his back hit the second.

The second impact had him; his back took the first blow then his head the second; Akecheta was unconscious; luckily he was now flowing through the rapids on his back; missing all the rocks by inches.  The current dragged him through rapid after rapid toward the calmer water which waited further down the river; Akecheta’s unconscious body breathed all the air it could, as he drifted around bend after bend.  After he had travelled about a kilometre in distance the current pushed him into a small pebbled cove where his unconscious body came to rest; blood ran from the wound on his forehead and from the cuts on his legs and back.  He lay there for some fifty minutes; his back resting on the pebbles while his legs still bobbed in the shallow water.

His mind began to come into focus as he felt something tapping at the side of his face; the tapping slow at first then it became a slight soft nudge!  Eventually his eyes opened into piercing sunshine, instantly closing them again.  He could still feel the tapping and opened them more cautiously now as his sight tried to readjust itself.  Everything seemed hazy until gradually his sight began to regain its focus; he could see the last of the sunshine as it began disappearing over the tree covered hillside, something tapped at him again!  Akecheta turned his head slightly wincing at the pain as it shot through his skull; next to him stood the Harris hawk that he had followed over the last few days ‘hello my friend’ he mumbled as he tried to roll onto his side.

His body was battered black and blue under his tanned skin; he dragged himself up on to his front and struggled to pull himself onto his knees, the pain shot through every inch of his body as his eyes clouded over.  Akecheta rested in the kneeling position, closing his eyes against the oncoming dizziness that was forming inside his brain; he rocked slightly willing his senses to come back.  After what seemed like an eternity he began to regain some composure; his eyes opened once more, he waited for the blurriness to return but luckily none came; he nodded to himself and let out an enormous sigh ‘that was close my friend’ he spoke to the hawk that stood watching him.  The cut on his forehead had stopped bleeding and now his face was a masse of bloodied stains, he dragged himself back into the water and splashed cold water over his face and body, careful so as not to touch his cut, he did not want to start it bleeding again.  He took off his vest and looked down at his battered torso; soaking his vest in the river he now used it as a sponge and wiped himself over; once he felt refreshed again he pulled himself up onto his feet, letting out another weary sigh.  The hawk hopped off on to a nearby rock where it continued to watch Akecheta; it let out a caw; Akecheta smiled at the hawk ‘well my friend we need to start back on our journey; the hawk cawed again turning its head to look at the setting sun.  ‘Perhaps you are right; we should rest up and start again early in the morning’ Annawan will watch over the boy, he will protect him tonight ‘I hope you can help me find him again in the morning’ the hawk cawed again.

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'Samson' Chapter 13 'Trust in me'

Chapter 13 ‘Trust in me’

 

 

            Samson’s head crashed into an obstruction; he screamed out in pain as the blood ran down his face and into his eyes.

 ‘I’m coming for ya boy’ the voice wasn’t human; it was deep and loud and kind of guttural!

Instantly Samson struck the match trying to see what the obstruction was!  His head had hit a dead end but then he saw that the tunnel turned to his right; Samson was on his way again, he was now on his feet holding the match outstretched in front of him; moving faster now than before.  Still he could hear his pursuer or was it both of them?  The blood trickled down his eye-line, stinging his eyes as he tried to blink it away then it trickled down his cheek where it followed its pathway down his neck; he felt nauseous as he moved forward; then the match gave out!

Without any hesitation Samson pulled another match from the box and struck it instantly, lighting up his path once again, it enabled him to see several metres in front as the noise followed from behind oh my god he’s nearly with me!  He could hear it, its excitement as it closed in on him!

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Akecheta was following the Hawk again, he had ran through the forest slopes out of view of the Harris hawk; until the ground opened up; the trees were much sparser, the terrain more mountainous.  He could hear the river away to his left; some inner voice guided him toward the sound his thoughts were that the hawk must also be listening to its own inner voice; Akecheta and nature together as one!  As he ran toward the sound of the fast flowing water he could see a cliff in the distance from where the sound of the water was originating; he ran toward the cliff.  His senses told him that there was danger up ahead that is where I’m heading into danger; don’t worry little boy I’m on my way!

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Samson lit another match followed by another, running as quickly as he could trying to cup the light in his hands as he continued forward; the scurrying from behind was getting closer!  Laughing trailed behind him; a ghoulish deep laugh a mocking laugh an evil laugh; it was getting closer; closing in on him, Samson ran on pleading with God not to let the light go out on him.  There was a faint noise up ahead; despair began to rise from within; he was being cut off; the laughing was now only ten metres behind him.  Samson was going to die they would attack him from two directions he was done; but still he ran toward this new sound!  Suddenly he realised that he was slowly able to see better; then he realised with hope, a desperate hope that began fuelling him on; Samson was running toward light, daylight?  Samson threw the match to the floor and clutching the spear tighter he ran down the tunnel toward the source of the light; he turned left then within six metres he was out of the network of tunnels and in the outside world.  Samson’s eyes were blinded by the sun as he stepped warily out onto a small ledge; the ledge was big enough for around four people to stand and was about twenty five metres above a fast flowing river.  His eyes were fighting to regain their correct train of sight as he scanned his new environment; his initial thought was to jump; take his chances and jump into the fast flowing river but he could make out rocky areas below him in the white water current, that swirled rapidly around the base of the cliff face.

Samson could hear the footsteps approaching from behind they were nearly on him; glancing either side of the ledge where he stood he noticed a short shelf which branched away to his left.  Instinctively he stepped onto the shelf which was around 300mm wide, his back against the rock he shuffled along sideways; away from the ledge where he had just stood, using his left arm to guide him and hold him steady he shuffled away from his pursuer.  His right hand was still holding the man-made spear as the large coloured man appeared from the hole in the Cliffside, stopping just before the edge of the ledge; his face contorted with rage.  Samson was doomed the coloured man now stepped onto the small shelf where Samson was already inching his way along; the coloured man began to shuffle after his prey; with fast careful steps. Samson moved sideways his small shuffling steps carried him further along the shelf and away from the chasing man and the ledge where they had both previously found themselves standing.  Another glance along the shelf told Samson that he would soon be out of rock to walk along; hope ebbed away from him as he glanced to the forest away to his left so close and yet so far away!

The shelf was narrower now but still he moved cautiously along until eventually his shuffling left boot tapped onto thin air; he was done for, this was the end, Samson had nowhere to go!

  Think……you’ve got to do something somehow he had to keep the large coloured man away from him, keep him at arms length; but how?  ‘The spear; use the spear; please God help me’ he whispered as he prodded along the shelf with the spear; his eyes were shut tight as he prodded blindly toward his enemy.

‘Put the fuckin stick down boy’ it was a deep nasty and angry voice, but still there was a hint of a southern accent.

‘Leave me alone’ he prodded again blindly.

‘You gonna die you little fuckin pin prick’ rage, anger and fury now.

Samson felt a pressure on the end of the spear; the man had grabbed hold of it; Samson opened his eyes; instantly he was drawn to look into the coloured man’s red eyes.  His features moving around his face; underneath his face was that of some kind of demon ‘please God help me’ he tugged on the spear trying to tug it away from the coloured mans grip.

‘Fuckin God; your fuckin God can’t do nothing for ya boy’ he spat ‘but you’ll die wishing he had; I’ll split you in half boy like I woulda done with ya sister!’

Samson again contemplated jumping into the fast flowing river below as he tugged again on the spear; but he did not possess enough strength to prise it away from the coloured mans grip.  He now had no alternative but to release his hold on his weapon; he glanced to his left and noticed a foot hole around a metre away from the end of the shelf.  It was all happening so fast he had let go of the spear and swinging his right foot around he stepped out grabbing out with his right hand all in the same movement.  His right boot wedged itself into the small hole; his right hand reached out and grabbed onto a piece of jutting out rock as his left leg and arm followed in the same movement.

Samson was now stood motionless on the side of the cliff; the river flowed relentless beneath; its power crashing into and away from the Cliffside.  Samson was stood on one leg as his left boot nestled its way into the hole and now resting alongside his right boot; both his hands clutched onto pieces of jutting out rock as he stood pinned to the side of the rock face like Spiderman.

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Akecheta ran through the forest toward the cliff that he could see between the branches; he could see a hole in the Cliffside; then a figure appeared from the hole.  It was the boy; but even from this distance he could see from the boys posture that he was in danger; grave danger!  Akecheta moved stealthily through the undergrowth; jumping logs and rocks; but his eyes never left the boy; he willed him to move but the boy just looking around helplessly climb boy, climb with each second that passed Akecheta knew that the boy was about to be joined on the ledge!  Even from this distance it was clear to him from the boy’s expression that he was being chased and had just emerged from the hole in the side of the rock face; he could tell that the boy’s pursuers were close I have to get to him before they do….help me Annawan!

Then the boy stepped out onto a small shelf and began moving along the wall of the Cliffside; next a large coloured man appeared; a big heavily framed man, he too now stepped onto the shelf and began following the boy.  Akecheta’s attention was drawn to the ledge and where it ended; soon the boy would be out of ledge and the coloured man would have him nooooo……..I have to get there he ran faster than he had ever run in his life, he seemed to glide over the ground.  Now the boy and the coloured man both tugged away at the spear then the boy had let go of his weapon and was swinging himself around into the cliff and away from the shelf; away from the coloured man whose face was like nothing Akecheta had ever seen.  He had watched horror movies at the drive-thru with some of the others from his side of the town; but never in his wildest dreams did he expect to see the face that he now saw; this was like nothing he had ever seen in his life!  That face cannot be human?

Just away from the boy the cliff curved away; Akecheta prayed that the boy could get himself around this curve in time; if he could Akecheta could help him; help him get to the forest and to him.  It also occurred to him if the boy could round the curve he would be able to pin the coloured man back; Akecheta ran faster toward the fast flowing river and the cliff-face; faster toward the evil he was soon to face.

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Samson stood motionless his hands clutched onto the rock, his face pressed tightly against the Cliffside; he looked to his left to where the coloured man was now nearly at the edge of the shelf.  Once he got to the edge of the shelf he would be able to reach out and grab Samson; Samson now looked to his right, he could see a small jutting out foothold.  Leaving his left boot on the edge of the small hole he stretched his right boot out to the small rut which jutted out from the Cliffside.  As soon as he felt his foot on the rut he grabbed out with his right hand until his fingers felt a slight crack into the rock, with desperation his fingers felt their way into the rock.  Samson pulled himself across; his breathing was heavy as he fought for every breath; his heart was pumping furiously; his nerves had never been as frayed as what they were now I’ll have a heart attack, I know I will?

Samson noticed that the cliff curved away toward the forest if I can just get that far he reached out with his boot again; and again it caught a small rut; he pulled himself over once more as he reached the slight curve.  There was another rut as he reached his boot out to rest on that one; his boot caught the rut as he reached out with his hand; this time the rut gave way!  Samson felt himself begin to fall; then his fingers caught a grip on another small fissure; he breathed a sigh of relief as he desperately felt around with his right boot; felt around for a safe foothold.  Samson felt even more like Spiderman as he found himself splayed to the side of the cliff-face; then he caught a movement in the forest, away to his right?

The movement was a person oh no it’s him; it’s the baseball capped man?  A man ran from the forest into a small grassed clearing on the riverbank just off to Samson’s right; right where Samson was headed please don’t let it be the baseball capped man; please God no he reached out again.  He could hear the large coloured man rounding the curve following in Samson’s steps.  Samson now saw the man ahead of him; it was an Indian man; a young Indian man; Samson felt in his heart that it was a good man; Samson saw the man soaked in sweat; his black vest which was soaked through stuck to him; his hair long and wet hung around his shoulders.  Samson looked into his dark brown eyes and even from the distance between them he saw kindness; the man had a bow held out in front of him; as he ran into the clearing pulling an arrow from his pouch he loaded the bow and ran forward aiming it just beyond Samson.  Hope erupted from inside Samson as he reached out to another rut and pulled himself closer, closer to what his heart told him was help help at long last, help Samson almost laughed at the word; how long had he been running from this evil.  One thing had followed another and although it had only been a couple of days since his whole trauma had begun in his head it felt a whole lot longer.  His body showed the scars; his mind too had scars; scars which he knew would stay with him for the rest of his life however long that may be?  Was it possible for this man he was now heading towards to fight the coloured man and the baseball capped man and win?  Samson doubted it very much these men were evil stop thinking and bloody well climb ‘come on Samson’ he gasped as he pulled himself another step closer to his new found friend; hope was on the horizon? 

Johnson had now rounded the bend and was now within grabbing distance of the boy fuckin little shit of a boy ‘come here ya little fucker’ he grabbed out but missed; a movement caught his eye; something was headed for him?  Johnson ducked his head just in time as an unknown object hit the spot of cliff where his head had just been ‘what the fuck?’  He looked around furiously as another object headed for him; this time he pulled back to the curve as again the object bounced off the rock and fell toward the raging torrent below.  Then he saw a man on the bank of the river; just ahead; where the boy was heading ‘leave now and I’ll spare your life; stay and you’ll go the same way as that little fucker’ he snarled in hateful rasps.

The first arrow would have been a direct hit if the coloured man had not pulled his head backwards, the second one he had also dodged; Akecheta had already bowed up another arrow and was aiming when the coloured man spoke; Akecheta pulled back on the bow.  ‘Climb; faster; quickly now’ he called out to the boy as he aimed his bow back toward the coloured man ‘I cannot’ he shouted as he fired off another arrow.

The coloured man had just pulled back around the curve on the Cliffside all that was left was his right hand, just about to let go of its holding point.  This time the arrow hit the back of his hand with a direct strike ‘aaaaarrrghh; you’ll fuckin well pay for that; I’ll fuckin kill the both of you and slowly you’ll see’ he pulled his hand around the curve; the arrow was jutting out from the back of his hand.  Johnson pulled his injured hand up to his mouth and gripping the arrow tightly with his teeth he yanked the arrow out and spat the shaft into the water below.

Samson was nearly at the edge; one more step and he could jump to the bank 1, 2, 3 and jump he jumped to the bank; landing on his knees he scrambled up the slight incline, onto the flat.  The young Indian man stepped toward him holding out his hand he pulled Samson up onto his feet ‘I am Akecheta; I have been sent to help you; come we must go and quickly the other two might come!’

Samson gasped for breath ‘other one’ he breathed deeply ‘there’s only two now; one of them is dead!’  His lungs gasped between sentences ‘I’m Samson!’

Akecheta looked at him doubtfully ‘two you say, one is dead; how do you know this?’

‘The bear killed one of them; I heard them talking when I was in the cave’ he breathed in and out slowing his heart rate to a manageable level.

‘They may have wanted you to think that there is only two; it could be a trick’ he fired off another arrow as the coloured man peered his head around the Cliffside.

Samson thought about what the Indian man had said he could be right; it might have been a trick? ‘No I’m sure; I know it, I saw the bear attack him; something told me; it was how it all happened; I heard the screams as well and the shots!’

Akecheta nodded ‘the shots; you see, if there were shots then the bear died and who fired the shots?  Come, we must go now; this way’ Akecheta turned and began running back into the forest.

Samson did not dwell on their conversation he was already running after the young Indian man named Akecheta ‘not too fast’ he panted ‘I cant keep it up too long I’m whacked out!’

The two new allies ran through the forest at speed; Akecheta had to slow down on several occasions to allow Samson to keep up; twice the young Indian changed course.  Every now and again they would stop and Akecheta would listen to the sounds of the forest, once he was happy he would nod to Samson and again they would set off on their marathon run through the arduous terrain of the Rockies.

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Johnson jumped and landed on the riverbank; his bloodied hand had left a handprint trail across the cliff, a clear indication of every hand hold he had used on his climb across; now he pulled out his knife and sliced a piece off his t-shirt.  With his hand resting limply on his stomach he wrapped the cloth around his bleeding hand.  Johnsons face was anger at its purest as he scanned the forest in front of him; he tied the piece of t-shirt into a knot and pulled tight using his teeth ‘bastards they’ll pay for that’ his voice boomed.  Looking up into the sky he could see a hawk flying; remembering his boss’s words that the boy had help more help than we realised; little fucker!  Johnson’s hand ached as he began running into the undergrowth; he was going hunting and this time there would be no messing about, he had scores to settle!  ‘Fuckin big scores’ he whispered as he entered the greenery; now he too was running, jumping, landing, running he could smell them; they would tire and he would catch up with them of that he was sure?

He had run for around a mile when up ahead he could see a break in the trees; he was sure that it opened up into some sort of meadow clearing; there was a green, yellow and white haze indicating daisies and buttercups growing through the grass.  There was also movement and it was human movement two people moving across the meadow; it had to be them; one of them stopped running ‘fuckin well is them’ he boomed angrily as he slowed his pace to a trot party time; the boss can get fucked if he thinks I’m leaving these two fuckers alive!  He was nearly at the clearing now; his hand ached but the anger that had built up inside was over compensating the pain as he prepared for a little of his fun; he licked his lips, tasting the salt that was beginning to dry on them!

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Samson and Akecheta ran hard through the forest until they reached a very large clearing; Akecheta ran into the clearing with Samson following close behind ‘we’re being followed my little friend.’

‘Oh no, we have to run faster’ Samson panted heavily.

Akecheta shook his head sadly ‘you will have to run faster my friend, you have to carry on alone; I must wait here and buy you some time’ he had slowed to a walk.

Samson fought hard for his breath ‘but I need you; I need you to help me get out of here!’

‘You have done well for yourself so far little warrior’ he slung the tied blanket from around his shoulder.

Samson shook his head ‘please come with me’ he pleaded.

Akecheta shook his head solemnly ‘he’ll catch up eventually we can’t run forever; it is best if I stay and battle this evil; it will give you time to get away’ he handed the tied blanket to Samson ‘take this it will keep you warm tonight and I will have no need for it anymore!’

Samson reluctantly took the blanket and slung the rope that bound it over his shoulder ‘but where do I go?’ He was close to tears now, he had come so far alone and now that he had finally found a companion it was to be a short-lived relationship.

Akecheta looked up into the red hot sky, the hawk circled high above; he pointed up ‘the hawk will guide you to safety my little friend!’

Samson had tears in his eyes ‘will I ever see you again?’

Akecheta smiled a sad smile ‘who knows what will happen; Wakatanka will decide the outcome.’

‘Wha………who is that?’ Samson asked through tears.

‘Wakatanka is everything and nothing it is everywhere and no-where, it is the land, the trees the light and the dark, the animals, it is the earth and the universe’ he looked toward the forest ‘go now; that way’ he pointed ‘head for the mountain.’  He unfastened one of the small pouches and opening it he pulled out some leaves and popped them in his mouth.  He passed the pouch to Samson ‘use this sparingly it will give you energy, run now my friend, do not be afraid; I will try to follow and whatever you do not come back this way and do not stop to watch’ he held Samson’s shoulders ‘do not be afraid for me little warrior, I do not fear death or the people that bring it!’

Samson took the pouch as the tears began rolling down his cheek, his eyes burned fiercely, then turning he began running; slowly at first, then his pace quickened as he moved through the large clearing until eventually he reached the forest on the other side.  The forest looked so uninviting, but he had no choice as he cautiously stepped inside the wall of undergrowth, he took several further steps then stopped to look behind him.  He saw Akecheta take off his pouch of arrows and place them on the floor with his bow; pulling a large knife out Akecheta watched the coloured man come out of the clearing.  Then Akecheta waited, as the man walked toward him;  Samson had a lump in his throat as he wiped tears from his eyes; he so wanted to wait to see what the outcome would be; but his second voice, the one he had come to depend upon told him it was time to get going you have to go Samson.  Samson turned sharply and began running quickly down a large slope; he had to get some distance between them, it was what he had been told to do; and he would do it good luck my friend Samson was now running again, with renewed vigour.

                           *          *          *          *          *

 

Akecheta placed the pouch of arrows on the floor next to his bow; his hair hung loose and wet around his shoulders; he shook it off as he flexed his muscles; the sound of his muscles clicked in several places as he tensed up.  Reaching his hand down to his side he pulled out the large Bowie knife; then holding the knife to his side he stood legs apart and eyes closed, he breathed in and out slowly!  

His whole body felt light; almost like paper, he could hear the blood flowing through his veins, like a river moving around his body, he felt at one with his environment as his heart beat it steady beats like the drums of the ancients he thought.  Akecheta breathed in deeply through his nose, he was somewhere else, in another time, in another place?  He looked at the vast plains in front of him, there were buffalo running; hundreds probably thousands of them, he was a warrior on a large black pony.  He looked along the ridge to where the other braves in his tribe were waiting for the signal to make their hunt on these sacred animals.  The chief sat further down the line on a grey Pony his face painted; his headdress showing all his majesty; Akecheta looked closely down the line; it was Annawan that he could see with the painted face; with the headdress, the chief was Annawan!  Now Annawan looked back down the line, down the line towards Akecheta; the other braves along the line also turned to face him, Annawan spoke; his words were as though he were standing right by his side; they drifted along the line.  ‘Econ Sni Kok-iPe Ki Iyusica Waka-Sica Unkis Imahel Niye (do not fear the corrupt devil, we are within you)’ Akecheta dismounted his Pony, they all dismounted; Akecheta stood looking along the line as one by one the braves stood and began walking toward him. 

A wave of electricity, an energy of some sort surged through his body as each of the braves walked into him; through him, one by one they entered him and walked through as though he were not there, as though he were just a spirit.  They exited him on the other side and disappeared; each one of the braves, their faces glowed with pride as they walked toward him, and one by one they entered his soul.  He watched them all disappear within him until at last it came to Annawan, he stopped directly in front of Akecheta ‘Gli Ekta Ki Elun Kize Cate-Tize Ohiti-Ke Wanji (return to the present fight fearlessly brave one)’ Annawan smiled at him; he did not enter just stood looking into Akecheta’s soul!

He was being sucked out of the setting; Annawan was still on the ridge; the buffalo still ran along the plains but the scene was becoming more and more distant until eventually Akecheta opened his eyes.  He was back in the present; the coloured man was walking toward him; he laughed ‘I’m gonna stick that knife so far up ya ass you’ll be begging me to end it quickly; little fuckin Indian’ his southern accent was threatening.

‘I do not fear you!’

‘Oh you should’ he snapped, his voice an angry snarl, he unclipped the holster on his belt and withdrew his Gloch ‘whats ya fuckin knife gonna do against this……..? Indian boy; welcome to the twenty first century’ he started to laugh; it was a deep rumble that seemed to echo around the meadow.

Akecheta stood firm as the coloured man raised the gun up to shoulder height; he pointed the gun at Akecheta ‘bang’ he pulled the trigger! 

Nothing happened; he pulled the trigger again still nothing happened as he pulled the trigger again and again; each time nothing happened.  He gave up and threw the gun at Akecheta; it flew through the air at speed; lightening quick speed; Akecheta twisted to the side and threw out his hand catching the gun in mid flight; he caught it side on between the barrel and the handle.  Flicking it around in his palm he now held the weapon comfortably in his grasp; his hair hung loose; the knife still clutched in his left hand as he watched the coloured man scanning his every gesture; his every movement.

The coloured man’s features were contorting around his face; Akecheta had never seen anything like it but he felt no fear; the rage within the coloured mans features was clear for Akecheta to see.  He could make out that the devil inside his foe was doing its upmost in trying to outwit Akecheta to scare him; to bring his fears to the fore.  The coloured mans tongue lapped out, tickling the air ‘fuckin Indian boy’ the voice was no longer that of the coloured man, now it was a higher pitched, taunting tone ‘come on Indian boy lets play’ his tongue flicked on the air again.

‘I do not fear your magic; for I have magic of my own’ he raised the pistol up to shoulder height and pointed the gun at the coloured man; then he pulled the trigger and fired; the gunshot echoed around the forest sending birds to flight as other wildlife scurried for hiding places within the forest.  The bullet hit the coloured man in his right shoulder sending him backwards a step; he regained his footing and began his charge; Akecheta fired off another shot this one hit him in the chest as he cried with rage; his face bubbling with anger.  The coloured man’s features bubbled around his cheeks as he charged again; another shot rung out in the meadow hitting him in the chest, then he fired again with another shot this one hitting him in the solarplexis; the coloured man fell to his knees holding his stomach.  His features still moved around his face but now they moved slower ‘you………..who are you’ the voice now raspy, as he looked helplessly for answers in Akecheta’s eyes.

‘I am Akecheta of the Sioux nation!’

‘He will come for you, you will beg for mercy before you die’ the voice now a high pitched rattle as the blood began to rise in his throat.

‘I do not fear your evil or the people who wield it.’

The coloured man began to laugh ‘It is not the people you have to fear, it’s what they become’ he laughed harder now as the blood oozed from every bullet hole.  Blood now began to come from the coloured man’s mouth; his once white teeth were now red, he spat a mouthful of blood on the floor.

 Akecheta walked over to the kneeling coloured man and raised the pistol, his arm came up aiming the pistol at the coloured mans head ‘welcome to the twenty first century’ he fired; the bullet went straight through the middle of his head; right between the eyes; exiting on the back of his skull and out into the meadow beyond.  The life left the coloured man instantly as he knelt motionless for several seconds until eventually his frame fell to the floor with a loud thud, he rolled onto his side.  Akecheta tossed the gun onto the coloured mans body; he put his Bowie knife back into its sheaf which hung from his waist; then reaching into one of his pouches he pulled out a powdery substance.  It was dry and yellow in colour; now Akecheta walked around the corpse, he began to sprinkle the powder over the lifeless form that lay before him.  As the powder hit the body; the body began to twitch; hissing sounds could be heard coming from the body where the powder had landed; there were voices quiet but vicious they were speaking in a language that Akecheta had never heard.  He swallowed hard and nervously, desperately blocking out the evil voices that spoke to him, cursed him, goading him.  Blocking out the voices he continued walking around the body sprinkling his recipe; a gift from the ancients passed down from generation to generation; the body convulsed rapidly; it bounced and wriggled with each drop of the dusty powder until gradually it slowed and eventually stopped.

Akecheta reached into another of the pouches on the belt around his waist and pulled out some matches; he lit one of the matches and threw it onto the body!  As soon as the match landed the body instantly burst into flames; hissing and bubbling, the sound of quiet screaming voices erupted from the form as they cursed their foul curses!  Vomit rose from deep within him until it reached his throat, he desperately tried to keep the sickness inside.  With the vomit still within his throat he watched the body of the defeated and dead coloured man shrivel up inside itself; then suddenly all the activity stopped.  A smell of rotting; cooked flesh drifted up his nostrils; Akecheta turned to the side and threw up; his hands rested on his knees as he continued heaving until he could sick up no more. 

 

I hope you're enjoying Samson.......if you are please tell your friends so they can enjoy it too!!

All the best

Dean Horton

 

'Samson' Chapter 12 'Deeper'

Chapter 12 ‘Deeper’

 

The Rocky Mountains, 23:20 local time:

 

The Mexican was swaying gently; Johnson watched his slight movements; every now and again his body would spasm, he would stiffen up; his scar which ran down his face glowed a raw red colour!  Johnson was now staring at the scar which he knew the Mexican had got from the time he had killed his own family; first his mother had tried to slit his throat and then she had slashed at his face; slicing him down the cheek with a knife!  Remnants from a history that only the Mexican could tell about; Johnson swallowed “you deal with the Devil; you ride with the Devil” they were words that The Mexican had once said to him before he had joined him in his first killing spree.  Well I’m definitely riding with the devil now!

His mind went back to 1998; it was a routine drug exchange they were meant to give some Columbian drug dealers $2 million in exchange for enough of the powder addiction to supply the whole West Coast.  They had gone to the docks at the port of Long Beach, San Diego, the Columbians turned up with more gun power than which was agreed; the agreement was three from each party. The Mexican turned up with two, Johnson made up the two, and the Columbians turned up with eight men four around the cars and four snipers on the ships moored close by.  When the exchange happened it all went one way; the Columbians took the money and the drugs, The Mexican was pissed.  Before they left in their cars he told them to watch every night because he would come looking for each and every one of them!

The man was true to his word and it was then that Johnson made his pact with the devil for that was what he had come to know the Mexican as; they called him the “Devils Advocate” but Johnson thought he knew better than the rest.  Johnson had always had his reservations about the Mexican but from that night his reservations became seriously true you play the hand you’ve been dealt and Johnson played that hand; boy he played it.  He could not deny he had enjoyed it especially the women and there had been lots along the way; some had enjoyed it at first until it got serious; then they would change, the pain becoming too much ohhhhh boy he could feel the beginning of an erection at the thought of his sexual conquests; their sexual conquests.

That night at the harbour it had all changed it was not just a job anymore it became a hobby; an addiction, one which he would never be able to get over or get away from; the addiction had to be fed.  Oh he had signed with the devil; signed right bang on the dotted line and ever since he had enjoyed the rewards and if he was truthfully honest the rewards had been exactly what he craved.  But when things did not go according to plan things could sometimes become quite painful; especially when the Mexican was pissed about something; when that happened everyone paid their dues hell I’ve got plenty of scars to prove that!

Back to the story of the Columbians; they hunted down each of the Columbians; attacked each of their family homes tying up the men while they were forced to watch as they abused their women right in front of their very eyes.  It had been a real blast; Johnson had enjoyed every second; every orgasm had been like firing a shotgun and then there was the look on the men’s faces as he fucked their women woooow boy!  The look they gave as he made them moan; oh he was a big man and he made them know it!  The Mexican only really got his kick from the killing, he had a real gift for that; it was almost like an art-form for him; always wanted to paint the masterpiece.  As the years went on the masterpiece would become more and more intense; there had been a lot more meaning to the Mexican’s work than just the killing!  The prayers and the drawings had really started to become a necessity; it always played a part in what the Mexican enjoyed and Johnson had noticed that over the years his boss had become more and more powerful!  But for Johnson it had all started with the Columbian drug dealers; one by one they were hunted and tortured; the boss got his revenge; just like the other stories he had heard about the ‘Devils Advocate’ yep he got his revenge alright and he also got me along the way!

Before Johnson teamed up with the Mexican he had been in The National Guard; pussy footing around with the tin-pot soldiers; as he had come to see them.  When he left the National Guard he met Ricardo Powell aka Cowboy; he was an ex Marine from the UK.  He had gone AWOL on his regiment for raping a local girl when they were on manoeuvres in the Tennessee swamplands; he would have been in serious trouble if it had not been for Johnson.  Johnson had given him a room to hide out in; had also introduced him to the Mexican who had given them both plenty of work it was like it was meant to be!  What he did not know at the time was that once you signed on with the devil you never got to sign off, he was in and would be until the day he died although he had only ever considered leaving the services once.  ‘Never again’ he whispered; it had really pissed the Mexican off; Johnson had never had a beating like it, more like tortured anyway that’s history he never ever wanted to leave again, after that night he knew he would forever be in the service of “The Devil’s Advocate” till the day I die!

Although Johnson and Cowboy had become friends it was cowboy who tipped the Mexican off on Johnson wanting out, then Cowboy for all his loyalty was forced to watch as Johnson paid the price for his mistake!  Well Cowboy ya dumb fuck…..yo out of it now brother, leaving me here to handle the boss on my own, thanks for that.  Johnson picked up a small whiskey bottle and unscrewing the top he held the bottle up for an imaginary toast before raising it to his lips where he downed several gulps.

Johnson now watched as his boss began to straighten; his chest puffed out as his shoulder blades slouched backwards; he suddenly began to flop from side to side.  His eyes were fluttering underneath his closed eye-lids; spittle began to drip from his partly closed mouth; it ran down his chin.  Suddenly the Mexican was flung backwards letting out a deathly groan as his eyes shot open.  At first his eyes were white until they began to turn red; Johnson ran over to his boss ‘you ok boss?’ he asked warily.

The Mexican’s head snapped toward Johnson; then unseen hands grabbed at Johnson and pulled him over to the far wall pulled his arms out into a cross shape as they pinned him to the wall his body stretched apart.  Unseen hands ripped his top from off his back; Johnson’s demon face had now taken over his features as he too snarled, he tried to release from the invisible grip that held him tightly.  The Mexican’s eyes had now turned back to their normal jet black colour as he began to regain his composure; the unseen force released the grip on Johnson’s arms.  Johnson shook his head as his features turned back to normal ‘hell Boss what happened to you back there?’

‘Nothing to worry about; I got a look at the boy and who was helping him that’s all’ his toneless voice informed.

‘So who’s helping the fucking kid?’

The Mexican looked away into the dark forest; something did not feel right to him; he had not been able to see inside the Indian Chiefs mind and that worried him a little.  What power was he up against?  ‘Just an old man; we’ll deal with him later; it’s time to sort out the boy!’

                           *          *          *          *          *

 

Samson had tried to listen to what was happening up on the surface; but he had only managed the odd word or two; one string of words he made out was “an old man” he thought about the old man he had seen in his dreams and wondered if they had come across the same person.  Maybe he had visited them in their dreams just like he had visited Samson; no he doubted that, there was something about the old man that Samson trusted.  The old Indian man would not want them to see him; he was a kind man and they were evil the two just did not go.  A voice drifted down the tunnel ‘hey boy you gonna have some visitors later; hope you’ve made it comfortable for them…………..ho, ho, ho!’ the sound carried on the sides of the walls, lingering in the closeness that suffocated him!

Samson swallowed nervously what devilry are they planning now?  He didn’t like it, they were up to something and warning him like that only played on his mind even more please don’t let it be snakes again.  He grabbed a couple more logs and threw them onto his small fire, if they were going to send more snakes he had to make sure he was ready ‘and ready I will be’ he nodded to himself warily as his quiet and afraid voice spoke back to him from the walls of the cavern. 

Samson had spent the next ten minutes sharpening his spear with his penknife; it was starting to get muggy inside the cavern again, his nerves began to take hold; something was going on, he could feel it, his nerve ends tingling with anticipation?  Every time they had played with his mind he had noticed the same kind of mugginess; he was sweating heavily again; he prayed he wasn’t going to be visited by more snakes, last night he had nearly died.  But last night you weren’t ready; tonight you are, even so thinking that way did not stop the fear rising up inside him again.  What evil were they planning now, his mind replaying all the evil events that he had seen over the last few days and nights?  He folded the penknife and put it inside his trouser pocket; the heat rose higher and higher, Samson glanced at the fire and considered dousing it a little, then realised that was not an option he needed the light that’s why you threw the extra logs on….protection Samson protection!

His whole body was now drenched in sweat; the t-shirt and his combat trousers stuck to his skin as though his body was wrapped in clingfilm; what he would not give for a breeze; any breeze just something to cool him.  Samson’s attention was drawn to the pool of water; he walked over to the pool and crouching down onto all fours he splashed water all over his face and neck.  The feeling instantly cooled him as the water ran down his sweaty neck coursing its own cool path down his spine to his trouser line where it soaked into his already wet pants.  A thought occurred to him that maybe he could lie down in the cool pool of water; there was a sound; Samson listened intently, he tried and tried to make out what the noise was.  Whatever it was it was coming from the top cave and it was getting closer as he listened and waited; waited for the next surprise to unveil itself.  His throat was dry again; the lump in it was getting tighter and tighter as he struggled to swallow; he made up his mind to drink from the pool again before he confronted this next enemy.  Within seconds he was back on all fours cupping the cold water as he drunk thirstily from his hands, the spear rested on the floor next to his knee as the sound came ever closer!

Samson was now standing at the edge of the pool as the scurrying, scuffling sound entered the tunnel; whatever it was it would be seconds before it was joining him in the cavern; the hot, muggy, sticky cavern that would eventually be his tomb.  Samson swallowed nervously as he shuffled toward the fire; he reached out and threw on even more logs never taking his eyes from the cave entrance and the new fear which was coming for him.  With his grip on the spear getting tighter and tighter; the whites of his knuckles showing through his dirty skin, the grip was now so tight he thought he would probably never again be able to straighten his hands; they were stuck in the clenched position, as though they were stuck with rigor mortise.  The sound was nearly upon him; it was now at the entrance to his safe haven, and still Samson could not make out what this sound was bringing; all he could see was the blackness of the tunnel beyond.  But the sound was virtually upon him….it was here!  What the hell is it?  Still he stared at the entrance unable to see the source of the sound and what was causing it; until it began to enter the cavern! 

Samson stared at the small entrance watching helplessly as they entered the enclosed space; the army was endless and it could not have been anything worse!  ‘Why can’t this nightmare just end’ he whispered desperately as he watched petrified and helpless, he watched the army as it entered en-masse ‘please God no’ his voice so quiet it could not be heard under the sound that thousands of insects make as they crawl like an un-dead army.  The blanket of insects flowed into the cavern and began moving across the floor toward him; his throat was now so dry he could not even speak anymore, his whole body was in lockdown as he now held his breath, unable to even force the simplest of commands.  His brain commanding him to breathe; he realised that he had not breathed; his whole body had gone into shock; he could not think; he had to act; had to get his brain back into gear you have to do something Samson, you have to act!

Samson now clutched the spear even tighter than before, his knuckles almost exploding out through his skin.  Although the more he thought about it he realised that was helpless, the spear could not defend him from this new evil as he watched the black mass creep along the cavern floor toward him.  Samson could see them; garden spiders, black widow spiders, tarantulas, beetles, cockroaches, locusts, ants; it was lunch time and Samson was the main course; the only course on the menu!

Think; think………………think ‘the fire’ it hurt his throat to talk, turning he jumped over the fire; he felt the heat up the inside of his legs as he then landed putting the fire between him and the new foe.  Samson looked down at the small fire then back to the advancing army of insects how can they do this; command the insects and creatures this way?  He had to do something; without a second thought he kicked at the burning pile of wood and ash sending the contents flying over the army that marched toward him.  That instinct to kick the fire toward the advancing army of insects brought him around thirty to forty seconds thinking time as he mentally went through his options what options he looked despairingly around the cave.  Samson had three options; one, let the army of insects just take him; two, try to get to the entrance; but who knew how many more were coming for him in the tunnel?  His third option made more sense; jump into the shallow pool, most insects don’t like water, however some do!  With that thought his survival instinct kicked in as he launched himself over the nearest carpet of insects, landing at the edge of the pool; Samson now jumped again into the middle of the pool!

What greeted him as he landed was totally unexpected as his head went below the water line; it was deeper than he had expected; all the time he had been in the cave he had thought that the water would only be shallow; up to his ankles.  How wrong he was as he now doggy paddled for his life; just keeping his head above the water; he watched the army of insects turn its attention toward the pool.  Samson kept himself afloat as he thought about the pool of water it has to lead somewhere; it just has too; otherwise the cave would eventually just fill itself up!  He could also feel a slight current; his legs were being pulled toward the wall slightly; it was dark now in the cavern as the last of the burning wood went out; it was even darker in the water.  Samson felt around trying to find the spear which he had let go of once he had started paddling; he could hear something in the water near the edge and realised that the insects were now entering the pool!

Samson’s hand caught the spear and then he was under the water swimming toward the wall; the spear prodding out in front of him like a blind man feeling his way along a pavement.  He had swum underwater for several metres, he was sure; that he had to be at the end of the cavern near the wall; but the spear had touched nothing?  Still he swam in the dark, not knowing which direction he was heading in; he swam on further until his lungs could not take anymore; he needed air and they needed air if he didn’t breath in the next two seconds they were going to explode.  Samson let himself shoot up to the surface, like a torpedo he shot upwards; his head came out of the water at speed as he caught for breath; his head banged on the ceiling above him, sending a pain coursing around his whole body; he could see stars in his vision; in the pitch black vision that enveloped his world.  Where the hell am I?  His lungs took in plenty of air as he paddled in the stillness.

His feet were still kicking as he breathed in the crisp damp air; he could feel something trickling down his face, unsure if it was blood or water?  Realising that it had to be blood its source from the point on his head which had hit the roof; the part of his head that was as sore as hell!  Samson stayed where he was paddling in the darkness; he turned and turned in the dark world unsure on what to do and where to go, still he clutched the spear as though his life depended on it.  Samson needed light and he needed to keep moving; they would send something else to kill him of that he was sure; he could not stop where he was ‘the torch’ his throat throbbed as he spoke the words; the sound of his voice reverberated around the dark place he now found himself.  Reaching into his pocket he pulled the torch up to the surface and flicked the switch on; the light stung his eyes slightly as he tried to re-adjust his sight.

Samson was now in a short submerged tunnel there was around thirty centimetres between the surface of the water and the uneven roof above and it was around eight metres long by two metres wide.  He shone the torch all around the space unsure which way he had entered this place; a slight drift on his legs made Samson realise that the current was pulling his legs toward the wall furthest away from him it has to lead outside; it just has to?  Wherever it led, Samson knew he could not stay where he was; he would eventually run out of air; he had to keep moving wherever the current led him you’ve got no choice but to follow the current, you can’t go back and you can’t stay in here you’ll run out of air!  Samson thought about whether the insects would follow him through the tunnel.  ‘You can’t wait here to find out’ his voice echoed once more around the small breathing chamber you’ve got to move on buddy!

Holding the torch in one hand and the spear in his other hand he swam gently toward the far wall; once he reached the wall he prodded around with the spear tip.  As far as his arm reached down the tip of the spear touched rock; but his legs were still being pulled toward this side of the submerged tunnel?  Samson took a deep breath and dived down to the floor of the tunnel; he shone the torch around and then he saw a hole around two metres wide and one metre high; he shone the torch into the pitch black hole.  It was no good although the beam lit up the path in front of him the small waterproof torch only shone for around a metre; the beam was not powerful enough to show him how far the tunnel reached.  He swam back to the surface, careful of his quick ascent, careful not to bang his head again.  Once back at the surface he gasped for air, His lungs taking in plenty as they breathed in and out like bellows; he had to get all the air he could now, if the tunnel was too long this may be the last air he would ever breathe?  Butterflies fluttered around his stomach as he gathered the courage for his descent into the abyss below you can do it Samson don’t be afraid.

‘Ok here goes’ the sound of his voice filled the tunnel, it sounded almost surreal as the sound amplified itself by the quietness of the small breathing chamber of the tunnel, the tunnel where he now paddled plucking up the courage to make his move ok Samson time to go.  With one massive intake of air Samson dropped below the surface and swam to the small hole at the base of the wall; Samson shone the torch into the hole and entered, following the current to wherever it led him.  As he swam he constantly shone the torch ahead and upwards to the roof that now pressed down on him; each second that passed he felt that he would die looking up at the tunnel roof, at the smooth rock ceiling; the last thing he would see in his life would be rock.  The air in his lungs had now gone, his lungs were completely empty, but still Samson’s eyes gazed on rock; smooth, weathered rock that had been smoothened from hundreds possibly thousands of years of flowing water, then the rock was gone!  Samson was past the roof of the submerged tunnel all he needed to do was to make it to the surface without opening his mouth.  If he opened his mouth his instinct would be to breathe and the moment he did that he would drown; from deep inside his lungs Samson desperately tried to find enough oxygen to swim upwards for the few seconds that it would take him!  But to his dismay his lungs had failed to retain enough oxygen, they were well and truly empty and the last half a metre of his accent had Samson taking in a mouthful of the cold water.  Samson felt as though his chest would explode at any minute; his eyes bulged as he struggled not to swallow more of the water; he had to make it; his head came out into air; cold black air, the speed of his ascent sent him two, three maybe four feet into the air!  Samson coughed and spluttered as he scrambled out onto a small ledge; he crouched on all fours oblivious to his surroundings as he coughed from deep within his chest. Samson coughed up a huge blob of phlegm into the water.  His body was beaten and exhausted as he rolled onto his back clutching the torch and the spear to his chest; he breathed and he breathed.  His eyes were shut tight as he regained his composure; regained his breathing; regained his hope!  He had no idea how he had managed to get this far; but something was definitely with him its either God or lady luck? He lay back with his eyes shut tight as his body began to stabilise itself; he let go of the spear and the torch; leaving them on his chest as he moved his arms down to his sides breathing deeply.

After several minutes rest his hand came back up and pulled the torch from on his chest and then he shone it around the confined area he was now laid.  The torchlight lit up around him revealing another smaller cavern like the one he was camped in earlier; breathing heavily he coughed out some more phlegm.  There was a tunnel away to his left; looking around he realised it was the only way out unless he decided to battle the water again and see how much farther he could go that way!  ‘No thanks; I’ll try the dry way’ he whispered.  Samson switched off the torch and laying his head back against the cold damp floor he closed his eyes; where he drifted into an exhausted sleep; his battered wet and cold body needed to recuperate!  

When Samson awoke he startled himself; unsure how long he had been asleep; even unsure of where he was, instinctively he turned on the small torch again.  His memory came flooding back; the nightmare came back, he had to get moving again; who knew how long he had been asleep; they could have followed him through the flooded tunnels; the insects or even the two men?  Wearily he rose to his feet; using the spear as a walking stick, holding him upright; he leant unsteadily on the wall; he could feel himself starting to sway; it was a gentle sway.  Without a second thought he slid down the wall and sat resting his back; his clothes were cool and stuck to him; he was shivering now; all thoughts of the earlier heat had long disappeared, as he breathed in and out in a gentle rhythm.

After several more minutes resting he decided to head into the tunnel and the unknown; where would it lead him, he had no idea ‘probably hell’ he whispered as he rose to his feet for a second time; the rest had done him good; Samson was good to go again, well sort of good to go!  He shone the torch into this new tunnel and stepped gingerly inside; with weary legs he trudged on into the unknown; into the dark black hole.  On and on he walked his body battered from the beating it had taken in reaching this point; Samson could no longer feel his muscles they had now gone past aching; his head throbbed from the knock it had taken in the submerged tunnel earlier.  His brain instructing every part of him to survive to continue on this useless trek may as well just roll over here and be done with it but still he continued onwards and forwards; his body and his mind refusing to give up you have to keep going. 

The gradient was constantly changing one minute he was walking upwards then another minute his path was taking him down; down to hell, or so he thought.  Then the constraints of the tunnel would change first he could walk upright then the tunnel would lower considerably at some points he would be on his hands and knees again.  Samson could hear a noise up ahead; he stopped trying to decipher what the cause of the sound was ‘water’ yes it’s water he quickened his pace.  The tunnel curved off to the left up ahead as he headed toward the cause of the sound; Samson rounded the curve where he came to a sort of t-junction left led to the sound; which was the turning that Samson took, then a few more steps had him stepping into another larger cavern. 

Samson stared in wander at a large stream that flowed through this large expanse of cave; he turned around and glanced in the tunnel from the direction he had just travelled.  Shining the torch back into the tunnel just to be sure; he had been feeling uneasy for a short time now, and this feeling of uneasiness he had had before only to find he was in danger on each occasion.  ‘Trust your instincts Samson’ he shone the torch around the large cavern; the large stream come river flowed through the middle and then on the far side of the large stream was another tunnel; his inner voice, his second voice, told him this was the way to go.  It has to lead to safety, it just has too you’ve come too far and gone through too much for it not to!

Without any hesitation he jumped the flowing water which was around one and a half metres wide; he landed easily on the other side and scrambled up the rock face to the farther tunnel further up the slope.  Once inside the tunnel he stopped and turned his head back into the cavern he was about to leave; Samson could see the hole he had entered through, he could also see light; torchlight!  Fear erupted from deep within as he scrambled into this new tunnel as quickly as possible; further and further inside he moved; he moved quickly but cautiously.  The devil was on his tail and Samson sure as hell was not going to lie about and wait for him; he had travelled around twenty metres when his torchlight began to fade.  The speed at which the light gave out amazed him; Samson was in total darkness and the darkness was where this evil thrived; he swallowed nervously as he scrambled forward with his arms reaching out in front of him; his spear felt around gently tapping along his route! 

On and on he scrambled his knuckles scraped on cold rock, nearly making him scream out on several occasions; screaming was not an option he was being followed and any sound would alert his pursuers of his whereabouts.  Although his inner voice kept reminding him that his pursuers could probably follow his fear, like a smell, the fear radiated from him?  It was so dark Samson felt like he was in space and had entered a black hole; if this was what one was like, he suspected it was; his throat was dry again and the heat was rising; that was not a good sign!  Realising he had matches he reached inside his trouser pocket and withdrew the packet of waterproof matches which were also secured in a plastic re-sealable bag.  He opened the bag and pulled the box loose, putting the bag back into his pocket Samson now slid open the box and pulled out one of the dry matches; he needed to see where he was going.

Just as Samson was about to strike the match a voice inside his head stopped him in his tracks the light will alert them; do not strike the match; keep moving as you are!  Samson listened to his inner voice; he had no reason to doubt its advice, after all how many times had it saved his life so far too many, maybe not enough!  The heat was rising as he crawled further forward; he heard a noise further back down the tunnel from where he had come from; from behind him! Samson stopped on his belly still holding the match and box in one hand and the spear in the other.  He lay waiting; waiting and listening as he stared behind him staring hard into the pitch black; from some distance he now saw something?  Samson stared harder and harder trying to focus his gaze it was two red dots and they were moving; moving very quickly; a lot quicker than he was.  Samson turned his attention forward and began crawling faster and faster into the darkness; scurrying followed him from further down the tunnel and it was gaining; the sound was gaining on him with rapid speed!

 

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