'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!

 

If you like Samson then share it with your friends after all how often can you enjoy an original free story..........Samson!!!

 

 

'Samson' Chapter 11 'Voices'

Chapter 11 ‘Voices’

 

Samson rolled gently onto his front careful where he put his hands; something stuck into his stomach, something hard and long!  He swallowed a painful swallow please god don’t let it be a snake head! After waiting motionless for seventy or more seconds, his mind working through his next move, he knew that if it was the snake head the teeth had not pierced his top; he began to summon the courage to move off his stomach.  He moved his palms out on either side, careful not to touch anything as his fingers felt blindly in the dark.  With his brain telling him it did not feel like a snake head he began trying to think about what it could be, it felt hard and long and it felt like it was in his pocket…..his jacket pocket, then he realised it was the torch yesssss you beauty earlier in the day when he left the cave he must have put it into his fleece pocket.  Pushing himself up onto his knees he instantly reached down zipping open the pocket he pulled out the small pencil flashlight.  Samson held onto it as though it were a fragile ornament, almost afraid to switch the light on; he let out one almighty and grateful sigh as he switched it on.  The cave instantly lit up around him, Samson wanted to cry with happiness as he shone the small pencil light around the cavern; the feeling of knowing he was not in the dark really buoyed him, if he had had to stay in the dark for a long period he probably would have gone and given himself up.  Samson saw the snake heads safely piled in the corner of the large cavern; remembering doing that the night before; he sighed an exasperated sigh of relief, the sigh turned into a large yawn.

A noise could be heard down the tunnel from where Samson had just crawled; he swallowed another painful gulp of dryness, he needed water; a plop landed in the pool behind him.  Samson turned and stepped over to the pool; reaching it, he crouched down by the edge of the pool; then cupping his hands he brought them up to his mouth and drank slowly, several mouthfuls.  Twice he gargled the water around his tonsils cooling them; the noises in the tunnel were getting closer now, Samson began to get anxious as the noise closed in on him.  He knew that whoever it was, the coloured man or the one wearing the baseball cap they would not be able to reach him, he was quite safe now!  Then a thought came to him; he remembered watching the X-files one night and one of the baddies had the power to stretch himself into small places; his nervousness began to take hold once again as he clutched the makeshift spear tighter in his hands oh Lord please help me! 

A light now shone down the passage just about reaching into the cavern where Samson was now holed up, Samson stepped to the side so as not to be picked up by the intruders light beam.

‘Hey boy; you gonna come on out? Its no use hiding out in there; you can’t stay there forever, but we can wait here’ the southern twang was loud and booming as it travelled down the short space separating them both ‘yes we can wait here for as long as it takes’ he laughed a loud lumpy sound.

Samson swallowed; scared and unsure what to do; maybe they were right, maybe he should go out, after all how long could he stay in there for?  You’ll stay for as long as it takes!

‘Yeah boy you know you’re stuck now don’t ya?  It’s gonna be a long night for you if you don’t give yourself up now, ho, ho, ho!’

His laugh reminded Samson of Father Christmas, but he had no intention of giving himself up; he shone his small beam around the cavern to where he had skinned the snakes on the previous night.  There was still plenty of meat on them and he had water; there was also quite a good pile of wood; fire, water, food; what more did he need matches! He patted his pockets worriedly don’t say you’ve left the things in the backpack? He shook his head in panic if ever I’ve got no matches I’ll die his right hand stayed on his right leg trouser pocket, where he felt something, in a small pack; he smiled as he realised it contained the pack of waterproof matches; Samson sighed in relief.  He also had another thought I’ll put the snake heads along the entrance so if they can stretch themselves into the gap they may fall on the teeth and poison them!

‘What’s goin on in there boy?’ the question echoed along the tunnel.

Samson could make out another sound!  It was another person coming down the tunnel; this had to be the one wearing the baseball cap, the evil one; Samson began to feel on edge again as he heard the other man enter the small tunnel; he too was now crawling Samson could tell by the shuffling of his knees.

‘Boss he’s in there’ Samson saw the beam from the coloured man’s torch enter the cavern again.

‘You in there little boy’ there was no accent to the voice it was almost……..Samson could not think but it was not right, that much he knew ‘talk to me little boy!’

Samson did not answer either of the two men; he just leant back against the coldness of the cave’s wall as the desperation of his situation settled over him.  Although it was cool inside the cave he was sweating like a pig a combination of nervousness and fear of the unknown.  Even though the odds were stacked against him, the fear of being left to the mercy of the two things outside in the tunnel seemed to summon a new wave of determination.  Samson was determined not to talk to them in any way, they could talk to him but that did not mean he had to answer them……but what if they hypnotise me? 

Twenty minutes passed as the two men waited in the enclosed space; Samson was still sitting with his back against the wall; waiting and listening, until eventually there was movement again.

‘You go back to the surface; make up camp in the cave entrance; I’ll have a chat with our little friend in there!’

‘Ok boss’ there was a shuffling of kneecaps as the coloured man made his way back into the tunnel and upwards to the cave entrance.

Now Samson and the baseball capped man were alone; fear began to well up deep inside Samson once again; like a lava pool it began erupting within his stomach, the volcano about to explode its deadly content.  His eyes were closed tight wishing that he could just disappear away from this place; to wake up and find that it had all been just a dream.  Samson knew that was not going to happen; he would open his eyes again find he was in the exact same place; in the exact same nightmare stuck in this God forsaken cave, in this God forsaken forest, in this God forsaken world!

The man laughed ‘that’s right you’ll wake and still be here; he has forsaken you, your God, your God of the heavens, left you here to us; we only want to talk to you, then we’ll let you go, I promise!’

Samson swallowed ‘I’ve seen your faces’ he whispered it quietly ‘you can’t let me go now; I’ve seen your faces and I saw what you did!’

‘Yes you have; I can feel your fear from here, I can make it quick for you if that’s what you want’ the one tone voice drifted to him, lingering around him, around the cave.

‘Like you did with my family’ he could feel himself getting angry.

‘I was quick with your family that is true and that was your fault; I had to be quick you disturbed us’ he paused ‘you’ve run quite far, led us on a right merry chase, even killed one of my men along the way’ he mocked.

‘I didn’t kill anybody’ he swallowed again closing his eyes as a lone tear escaped to roll down his cheek; the dryness had returned to his mouth again.

‘That’s right it was a bear’ he laughed ‘a bear helped you; that’s almost unbelievable don’t you think’ the tone of his voice was almost goading; goading and mocking at the same time.  ‘Come to the entrance and see me!’

‘No’ Samson was never going to do that ‘I won’t do anything that you want me to do!’

‘Oh but you will………….in the end you will’ he laughed ‘they always do what I want them too; just like your mother and your sister………………’fuck me (it was his mothers voice) fuck me first’ a pause ‘I want him first the nigger, fuck it I’ll have all three of you (it was now Candice he could hear)’ another pause ‘do it take them both baby (his father commanded)’ now there was giggling like a small child ‘one, two what shall we do, three four knock on the door (it was now his own voice as a small child).  It was the song that Samson and Candice used to sing when they played in the garden!

Samson put his hands up to his ears and placed the forefinger of each hand deep inside each of his ears; he pushed them in further and further trying to block out the voices; to get this evil inside his head to stop.  He pushed his fingers in so hard at one point he thought they might actually meet each other!  It was like this, sitting with his fingers in his ears, sitting against the cold rock willing the evil man to disappear, that Samson stayed!

He must have sat against the wall with his fingers pressed firmly inside his head for what seemed like hours, tears had flowed and then subsided he could tell by the feeling that his eyes were red raw; eventually he pulled his fingers free from his ears………….silence greeted him, a deathly silence.   

Samson waited; waited and listened; he listened for every possible sound but none came has he gone? He wanted to peek his head around the corner of the tight opening and take a look.  After deep consideration he decided against looking, after all it could be a trap; so far whenever he had trusted his senses they had proved to be right; so he was damn sure he was going to trust them now!  He shone the small torch over to the pile of logs and decided to light a small fire.  If he could light a little fire he could then conserve his pencil light battery, after all he had no idea how long he would be holed up inside the cave?

The fire started quite easily; the smoke headed toward the small tight entrance where it began seeping out into the tunnel drifting its path to the outside world and the clear fresh air outside.  The fire only consisted of a couple of logs and a few twigs to help them catch; Samson thought it better to keep it low; just enough to make a little light and warmth; after all he could be stuck in the cave for quite some time, Samson was trapped!  Deep down he fumed with himself; he could not reason with himself on why he had decided to go into the cave what were you thinking; you dimwit; you’re well and truly trapped; dun for!  Feint voices drifted down the tunnel to him; they were both in the cave entrance he could definitely hear two voices talking; they talked quietly but the odd word drifted on the quietness that enveloped him, that sealed him in his tomb.  ‘My God what if they block the entrance’ he whispered it as he stared into the fire; a nervous gulp followed the sentence, he had no options, only to give himself up but that would be the last resort; his attention was now fully focused on the small gap which led to the tunnel!  Thoughts of them reading his mind now came to him if they get inside my mind and realised what I’m…….was thinking they may even choose to seal the cave ‘you don’t know that, they may not have thought about it yet’ they may even decide to leave me and go back to whatever hell hole they came from although he doubted that very much!

                           *          *          *          *          *

 

In the main entrance to the cave a fire roared; there was a saucepan on the top, where beans and sausages cooked; Johnson stirred them occasionally.  Against the far wall and out of site leant two Heckler and Koch G3 assault rifles; The Mexican sat with his back leaning against the wall, his cap pulled down over his eyes.  Outside the cave, dusk was coming on quickly; soon darkness would be upon them.  Johnson stirred the contents of the saucepan again ‘that Fuckin boy ruined all the fun; I never even got the chance to have that young whore bitch.  At least Cowboy went out on a high, he got to have the ride even if it was cut short’ he glanced over toward the tunnel ‘I’ll make that little bastard suffer boss when I get my hands on him may even give him what his little bitch of a sister would have had!’

‘You’ll get the chance soon enough; but not till we deal with the other problem’ he sat straight; the words came from beneath the peak of his cap.

‘What other problem boss?’ he whispered now as he looked around.

‘Do you not think the bear attack was a little strange?’

Johnson stopped what he was doing and nodded agreement as he stroked his chin ‘well boss I suppose it was a little strange, but I didn’t actually see what happened’ he began stirring again.

The Mexican pulled the cap from his head and straightened up ‘the boy has help’ his jet black eyes looked at Johnson ‘nothing happens to the boy until we find out what help; until we draw them out, only then do you get the boy is that clear?’

Johnson looked into the Mexican’s eyes it made the hair on his back stand on end; Johnson himself was a powerful man but the boss was………..? ‘Loud and clear boss; loud and clear!’

It was quiet now as Johnson dished up their food spooning the meal into two metal mess tins; he handed one to the Mexican who took it without thanks; wisps of smoke drifted from the tunnel and floated past the two men as they sat in the entrance to the mouth of the cave.  The smoke drifting beyond them and into the now gloomy forest.  The two men ate quietly as the darkness came; Johnson glanced at the Mexican’s scar which ran around his throat; it seemed to look fresh again like the one which ran from his forehead over his eye and down his cheek.  He thought how it was strange that this happened when something was on his boss’s mind especially the scar around his throat they seemed to be at one; the scar and the Mexican’s thoughts; perhaps the boss was nervous?

                           *          *          *          *          *

 

Samson lay on the bed of heather his eyes were closed as he took in the smell of the rattlesnake meat which cooked on a spike of wood; his thoughts took him to school, to his friends who he would never see again.  His features were expressionless as he thought about the prospect of dying; a lone tear rolled down from his left eye and traced its way down behind his ear, into his matted dirty hair.

A saying came to his thoughts “time runs out of time” he could not think where he had heard the saying before, but Samson had the feeling that he too was now running out of time; this was probably going to be his last meal on earth; or if not this one maybe he would have one more left him in?  They could take him at any time; they could smoke him out; probably even toss in a grenade and blow him up so why don’t they?  There must be a reason why they’re waiting?  Samson now wondered what time it was; he had been in the cavern for quite a while; but then time drags out especially when you’re doing nothing, nothing but cooking and sleeping.  His guess was that darkness had now hit the outside world; although he did not know it; his guess was correct darkness was now upon the forest and the world that lay still outside and soon very soon it would be upon him!  The dark thoughts and all the evil that the dark brought would soon be upon him, Samson had that feeling inside, that feeling that told him the darkness would soon be coming to get him!  With that thought he reached out and put another log onto the small fire.  He looked at all the wood he had left at this rate I’ve probably got enough wood for fifteen hours of light?

                           *          *          *          *          *

 

The forest was pitch black as the two men sat around the campfire in the cave opening; the sky was so black that they could not even see the trees that surrounded the area where they sat.  The Mexican’s scar which ran down his face glowed from the light of the fire; the moon was completely cast in shadow, Johnson watched his leader with intent; wondering where his boss’s thoughts were?  The Mexican just sat cross-legged; his eyes shut tight; the fire began to dance; flames moving in and out of the burning logs, almost resembling the legs of people; the tips of the flames began licking out at both the Mexican and Johnson.  The flames reached out like hands grabbing at them both; stroking, licking as they teased around the two demons who sat around the fire.  The features of both the Mexican and the large coloured man had now turned into ghoulish faces of horror and pain as the pair now watched the devilry at work.

                           *          *          *          *          *

 

Samson now wore the t-shirt that had previously been wrapped around his head; his fleece jacket was now neatly folded as a pillow under his aching head; neither of the two men had been back down the tunnel to mock him.  It had been quiet for quite some time and Samson liked that feeling; if only they could stay away from him forever, he doubted it very much but each second they stayed away was heaven to him. 

Samson and his family were not at all religious; the only time they had ever really attended a church was for christenings and weddings and now he deeply wished that his parents had taken him more often!  For everything he had witnessed over the last three days had proved to him that there were other things involved in this world; more powerful things than he had ever expected.  Not everything was black and white as he had always believed; the devil was at work and he was after Samson and if the truth be known he was probably going to get what he wanted; Samson was certain that the fate that awaited him was not going to be pleasant time runs out of time!

It began to get a little muggy inside the cavern; Samson was sweating slightly; he looked over to the small fire which had started to behave differently.  Flames began to dance in and out of the few logs that burnt orange; they leapt out at him; then snaked up and down almost like what he had seen on the television when men with flutes had made adders dance from wicker baskets.  Samson stared at the flames as they mesmerised him; he was now in an almost hypnotic trance; his head swayed with the dancing flames as they lured him into their world of fire.  Samson spoke softly; the voice, his voice, it was his own voice within his mind who are you he asked.

‘Legion me llamo’ the voice was almost hollow; now another voice spoke in English ‘I am Legion; for we are many’ another voice now, this one harsher ‘for we are many; for we are many; for we are many’ it sniggered then again it spoke in different languages in different voices repeating itself over and over again, the voices getting harsher. ‘We are many, ya que somos muchos, тому що нас багато, weil wir viele sind, car nous sommes beaucoup, поскольку мы – многие, 因為我們有很多, for we are many!’  There was laughter lots of laughter from many mouths, from many voices, the sound reverberated from the walls as it bounced around the cavern, it lingered around Samson teasing and choking his senses.

Samson felt as though he was hallucinating as he watched the walls around him slowly come to life, moving into shapes; into features; into people, the fire now raged too large for how small the actual fire was.  He wanted to turn away but was unable to move as the show he watched now had him enthralled, captivated, entranced this evil magic had taken him over!  Samson could feel his very soul being dragged away from him; his inner self tried to battle this unseen foe; he fought to bring himself back to stop the evil thoughts from taking him over, taking over his soul; he desperately tried to stop them from gaining control.  Visions came to him from deep within his mind, battles and wars throughout time; people being mutilated and maimed; there was blood and guts, people; innocent people cried and begged, Samson felt sick as he witnessed the horrific scenes from other times!

Crowds of people lined the streets, he had been transported to another time, another place; it was sandy and dusty; he was now in a land somewhere in the Middle East, it was a very long time ago.  Samson was standing in the middle of a dusty road none of the people watched him they were oblivious to him; looking beyond him.  He turned to see what they were looking at; there was a procession of men carrying crosses, they walked toward him; soldiers, not of today’s kind; they were like pictures he had seen in the history books; they were Romans.  The soldiers walked along the street sides as people threw rocks and stones at the men who carried the heavy timber frames.  One of the men wore a crown of thorns he walked second in the procession his body bloodied and battered as each of the men was repeatedly whipped; Samson waited in the crowd as the procession grew closer.  Now they were upon him, forcing him to step to the side, out of their path, giving them space to let them pass; he felt the wind from a stone as it passed by his head and hit the man with the thorn crown; it connected with his back, the man did not cry out he just carried on with his slow pace as the whip hit him once again.

It was a dream it has to be a dream as Samson now followed the man; every now and again Samson would look into the crowd; into the faces of the people throwing the stones, he could see the hatred and the anger in every gesture.  Then he could make out the demons within them as their faces contorted into un-human features; their sneers and jeers as the crowned man passed them by; some threw rocks then hid behind others.  Samson felt sad, sad and disgusted at how people could do such evil.  Sorrow welled up inside him as he walked with the crowned man; he walked by his side; Samson wanted to cry, he wanted to help the man carry this burden; to take some of the weight of the heavy cross.  For the first time in his life Samson was ashamed; ashamed at what the human race was capable of, he felt tears running from his eyes as he walked alongside the battered and bruised man.

Samson could hear voices as he watched the hatred spill and spread from person to person; he could also hear voices in his head ‘I am Legion; for we are many; we are many; WE ARE MANY……………!’  There was laughter and sniggering all around him from the crowd and from the voices inside his head. His mind tried to focus on all the good things he had seen and done; he remembered the Lords Prayer and began to recite.  ‘Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name; thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.  Give us this day our daily bread and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us.  And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil; for thine is the kingdom, the power and the glory, for ever and ever; Amen.’ 

The fire raged higher and higher inside the cavern as the words came out of Samson’s mouth; the shadows now moved angrily around the cavern they clung tightly to the walls every now and then an arm like shape would reach out to stroke at him; to touch or grab at him or even hit him.  Samson was now sweating profusely; it ran from every pore in his skin; the mugginess now in the cave made him feel lightheaded.  The voices mocked him ‘our father, who art in heaven………..false father; you never worshipped him before; he’s never watched over you’ the voices sniggered as the shadows leered at him.  ‘Lead us not into temptation………….you will always go to temptation you will see………… we are many, WE ARE MANY’ it boomed around the cavern!

 

Killdeer Mountain, North Dakota; 22:30 local time: 

Annawan stood next to the fire; he reached down with his left hand into one of the pouches on his belt and pulled out a handful of coloured dust; no light shone from the covered moon, the whole mountain was in darkness except for his small camp fire.  The powder was soft, almost sandy in its texture as he threw the powdered dust onto the fire.  The fire turned into rage; higher and higher the flames rose until they reached around seven metres in height; the flames turned into a shape.  The shape became the face of a man; it was the Mexican’s face; his scar ran the length of his face; he looked around where Annawan stood and chanted.  The Mexican now became a creature; a demon who spat words at Annawan ‘you foolish old man, you know not, what you get involved in.  You should have stayed at the reservation old man!’  Arms reached out toward him; as Annawan stepped to the side; they grabbed at him again ‘you are not strong enough for us old man, we are legion….for we are many!’

‘You cannot harm me; for I am safe here’ Annawan, his voice frail and soft but with an edge of determination looked around him ‘this is my home; my land and my people; they are my animals; my trees; this land is me and I am this land’ his haggard features did not show any hint of fear.

‘You’re not up to this old man; do you not think we didn’t know………we knew the boy had help we needed to see what help he had…………….and this is what you send, an old man!’ The demon looked up to the cloudy sky in jest; as the wind whipped up around the mountain ‘I send you death and corruption of the soul and you send me an old man to fight your battles’ he laughed a loud heartless sound that echoed all around the mountainside.

‘I am old that is true but do not doubt me evil one for I have more to give than you could imagine!’

The demon immediately snapped his attention back to Annawan ‘I wanted to see you old man to see who was helping the boy; I instigated this whole thing, it is me who drew you out into the open and it is me who will end your miserable petty, meaningless life!’

Annawan reached into his pouch and pulled another handful of some kind of powdery substance; the colour this time was green.  Annawan was determined not to get drawn into a conversation with the evil that stood in front of his eyes; their trickery was strong and he did not want to give away the fact that Akecheta was getting close.  ‘How do you know that it wasn’t me that instigated this whole meeting?’  The old man smiled as he threw the powdery substance onto the fire; as soon as the green powder hit the fire the demon subsided back into the flames and the fire died away; until it was back to its normal size.

Annawan dropped to his knees with exhaustion and fear; this was true evil that he had seen; the boy and Akecheta were in grave danger; Annawan feared what he had got the young brave into.  He was old now and would struggle to maintain the energy he needed to fight this evil which was upon them; he chanted quietly as he knelt wearily on all fours.  ‘Give me the strength to fight this battle oh great Wakatanka; let me help the white boy and Akecheta; let me help them in their battle against this great evil that is upon us!’  The moon began to break through the clouds, sending its moonlight beam across the mountain again.