'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!

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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?

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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?

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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.

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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.

'Samson' Chapter 10 'Deja vu'

Chapter 10 ‘Déjà vu’

 

 

Akecheta had reached the far bank and was now on the move again; there was a feint sound somewhere in the distance; the sound came again, he stopped abruptly as he strained to listen.  Another sound told him they were gunshots!  His brain tried to calculate the distance, something inside his brain told him that they were a lot further away than what he had originally thought but I’m close enough to hear them……..that’s a positive.  The little part of his brain that spoke to him regularly told him that the magic was making him hear things he should not normally hear; making the sounds travel further than usual.  The wind and time were bringing them to him, making him hear them, telling him what was happening; all this was alien to him, Akecheta knew that he had to accept these things Wakatanka is with me; Annawan is with me!  He looked skywards and was shocked to find the hawk had gone; but he knew in his mind that the eagle would return; never-the-less he had to continue; Akecheta began to run again; this time he ran toward where the gunshot sound had developed!

On and on he ran; jumping obstacles that blocked his path; ignoring jutting out branches and twigs that grabbed at him trying to slow his pace the enemy is trying its best to slow my progress down but with a sheer determination he continued, ignorant to their attempts to slow him.  Akecheta would not be stopped I am the one true Sioux, I am Akecheta, I will not fail his senses told him that he could not be stopped, he was alive; his nerve ends tingled with anticipation as he moved easily through the forest.  His whole body was tuned into the environment around him with each step he made animals moved from out of his path leaving the way clear for him to continue with his constant pace; his relentless pace!

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Samson now lay on his back looking skyward; his chest rising and falling as he took in the air that fed his lungs; he was biting his top lip as he thought through his options.  There had been no sound from the hill above for around fifteen minutes, but that did not mean they were not there?  He raised his head slightly and looked at the distance he had crawled around three hundred metres and the last time he had heard his pursuers they were around two hundred metres further back and higher up the bank.  The coloured man had said that he had seen the dust cloud, if that were the case they would be heading down the bank to check it out; so why had they not already got down there?  Why have they not got down here and seen me?  He lifted his head again to look further back; his eyes scanning around him; also checking out the other side of the stream.  But there was nothing, no sign of movement, no sign of his pursuers and no sign of wildlife, the only sound being the noise of running water from the slow moving stream!

Of course another idea came to him they could be waiting for me up ahead after all it made perfect sense; they would be sure that he would not head back toward the road!  The human instinct would take him away from them to run in the opposite direction and they would know that; this thought made him unsure, he could not stay where he was so do I chance running out into the open or crawl back the way I came; back toward the road?  His mind was spinning with thoughts on what to do when a noise brought him back to the present; his breathing stopped as he heard a flutter; a couple of beats then a loud “cackle” ‘oh no!’ he sighed.  His attention was instantly drawn to the other bank of the stream and to the clump of moor birches some fifteen metres away then Samson saw it land?

The crow landed twenty or so metres away; it landed onto a thick branch of a moor birch where it cackled again, then again I don’t believe it Samson watched as the bird just stared at him they’ll see me; it’ll show them where I am?  As he watched the crow another movement caught his eye further down the bank from the direction he had crawled; an arm came into view.  Samson was on his feet in a split second and running again; the pain from all his aches and knocks was gone once again; well not gone, forgotten, the pains were somewhere deep in his mind in some locked room, just waiting for the time when the door would open once more.  There were other things on his mind now as he darted from his position; more important things than aches and pains; his course took him under the American plum tree and toward the waiting undergrowth which he entered with a crash.  He heard the twigs snapping from somewhere behind him and also from around him as he ploughed his way through the bushes and trees, stopping for nothing he moved quickly side onto the hill; gradually climbing but still moving side on.  He could hear someone following but dared not look behind, he had to focus on his footing one wrong step and he would be down; if he went down he would be done for!  They would catch him; he knew he had to focus on the course he was taking.

Jumping a small ditch Samson was now back onto the path he had walked earlier in the day, a small puff of dust flew up behind as he hit the path running.  There was a noise in his ear, followed by a slight breeze as the crow flew right by him; carrying on it landed up ahead onto a juniper branch that damn bird, if it’s the last thing I do I’ll kill that damned bird!  Samson had always been a lover of animals but right now he really wanted to see that bird dead and the sooner the better was how he saw it, as he now passed directly beneath the branch where the crow perched.  Footsteps behind him; they were now on the path some way back, Samson carried on running as the crow again overtook him; just skimming the top of his head; if he had tried he probably could have pulled the thing right out the air.  Samson actually felt a little annoyed that he had not tried to grab the bird; but he now had more pressing thoughts to deal with as he rounded a corner in the path again passing beneath the crow; it cackled loudly as Samson passed it by.  Up towards his left Samson could see a clearing; he had noticed it earlier in the day but he had come to this point via another route; the clearing looked quite flat and Samson felt quite sure that he could put some distance between him and his pursuers if he took that route.  With his mind made up he branched off to the left and on toward the clearing.  Knowing that if he did not put some distance between him and his pursuers he would get shot!  That thought kept his legs moving faster than he had ever run in his life.

Once Samson hit the clearing he moved with ease through the short grass which was littered with wild flowers; red clovers and ox eye daisies were spread amongst the ankle length green grass; which brushed his hiking boots with each step.  Samson had made a good choice and was well through the clearing and back into the undergrowth long before the pursuing English man had reached the clearing.  A noise could be heard in his ear as the crow again approached him from over his right hand shoulder.  This time Samson flung his arm up and out to his right, flicking his hand just as the crow was reaching his shoulder area.  Samson felt his hand hit the crow sending the large black bird careering into the cranberry bush at the side of the path; Samson heard the crow crash into the bush and felt like whooping with joy but the thought of what was following him drove him onwards.  Besides a little voice in his head told him that he had not seen the last of the crow, the little voice told him that the bird would be back to haunt him damned bird, I hate that damned bird!

 

Killdeer Mountain; North Dakota 13:25pm local time:

 

The old chief cleared the area around where he had had his fire on the previous two nights; he stockpiled a large pile of wood before he set about making another small pile of wood ready for the night ahead.  Once the pile of wood was ready he picked up a small bowl with a yellow paint inside then using his finger he began painting on the rock at the near side of the unlit fire.  He drew the outline of the sun then the moon, colouring them both in with his index finger; then he placed the bowl on the floor at his feet.  Withdrawing his knife he nicked the side of his hand, blood instantly began to drip; Annawan let the drops of blood drip into the bowl then he mixed the yellow paint with his own blood and made a dark orange colour.  Once he was happy with the shade of colour he had created he began colouring in the sun as it set on the rock.  His picture depicted the sun throughout its daily cycle until it eventually the sunset turned to night then there came the moon around which he shaded black skies using a piece of burnt charcoal from his previous nights fire.  All the time he painted he sang songs under his breath, ancient songs; the songs of his people, the words passed down from generation to generation, ancestor to ancestor.  Annawan knew that this could be his last day alive; his last day on the earth but that thought did not bother him he would return as another animal just as Wakatanka would permit; perhaps he would come back as his namesake “The Attacking Hawk” he dearly hoped that it would be so; nodding to himself as he continued his ritual.  A bead of sweat rolled from his forehead and down his temple until eventually it reached his neck; whatever happened this day, his spirit would be with the land; of that he was sure, just like the spirits of his ancestors.  His only concern now was for the young brave whom he had sent on this mission; he had his whole life ahead of him; he was the one who could keep the honour and memory of the Lakota Sioux going to keep the traditions alive.  Akecheta had to make it through the danger; if he could pass this test their name would continue as would the traditions of his people; a sudden thought occurred to him what if neither of us makes it through……what if we fail?  Annawan put that thought to the back of his mind; he would not allow any negative thoughts they had to succeed; this evil had to be defeated the memory of our people won’t let us fail he nodded again as he continued with his ritual.  The ritual he was performing was called “The Hanbleceya (cry for a vision)” Annawan carried on with his vision quest ritual, where only the worthy will see the vision, just as he had in the previous nights.  His quiet chanting continued, now he chanted with closed eyes; later he would again smoke the pipe of peace and his ancestors would show him the way, and they would watch over Akecheta!

 

The Rocky Mountains 14:40 local time:

 

Samson stood crouched over with his hands on his knees; he had been running for what felt like two hours, or so he thought; his lungs were taking in as much oxygen as they could take.  Surely his pursuers had to stop as well; surely they had to have air; they had to breath after all, he listened intently for any sign that they were still following; he was higher up now and could make out the path further down below him.  The sun beat down upon him as he fought for every breath of air he could take; his mouth was dry again and he now had no water; stupidly he had left his pack behind you should have picked the pack up.  Still it was too late for regrets; what was done was done, all that mattered now was what was to come, what he still had to do and that was move, keep moving keep trying to stay alive; to stay one step ahead of them I have to stay one step ahead!

Every single muscle in his body ached, they actually felt like they were going to explode, like at any one moment his thigh or his calf would just blow a hole in his trouser leg and leave his muscles on the path as a trail for his pursuers to follow!  How long can I keep this up for?  Samson was now desperate for a rest, even just for one minute just let me have one minutes rest!  After several more hobbling steps he stopped again and crouched over holding his hands on his thighs as his lungs took in the beautiful air they still craved; his chest rising and falling in rapid motions!  

The day was hotter than anything he had ever experienced in his short life, it was a good thing that he still had the t-shirt tied around his head, or else he would surely have had sunstroke again.  The t-shirt was soaked through and every minute a trickle of sweat would escape from the sodden material and roll down his temple onto his cheek or neck.  There was a noise further down on the path below him!  Samson held his breath in anticipation as he saw the Englishman come into view time to get going again he turned and began running again; was there any slowing these men down devils more like!

Samson was now at the top of the hill just coming over the brow heading for the downward slope on the other side; he could feel his blisters, the heel’s of his boots were now rubbing harder as he started his descent, the pain shooting up his thighs like hot irons.  He knew he had to just put it behind him try to forget the pain but with each step he could feel the skin on his heel stretching as the heavy material cut deeper.  ‘Flip-flops’ he panted imagine you’re wearing flip-flops on a beach somewhere his lungs were gasping for breath with each step he made; a massive doubt in the back of his mind telling him that he was not going to see this thing through!  ‘Come on Samson, keep going, it’ll get easier; I promise’ but still the doubt remained.  The terrain was levelling out again as the slope began rising away to his left, Samson continued in the direction he was running side on with the incline halfway up.  The stream still flowed beneath he could see it every now and again glistening through the gaps in the trees; thoughts of drinking the water began to come to the fore of his mind the cooling water ‘oh God what I’d give for a drink of cold water’ he spoke to himself in ragged breaths or even one of those juicy plums! He swallowed hard, the sensation of swallowing hurt his throat and that feeling made him want to cough and gag.

A sound travelled on the stillness that had come to gather around him; it was a twig or a branch Samson was not sure which?  The only thing he was certain of was, if it was his pursuers the distance was closer now than they had been anytime previously!  Oh no they’re catching up Samson turned his head, looking over his shoulder; the Englishman was gaining he was now around sixty metres away.  Samson saw his face, a contorted face, a demonic face, twisted with anger and rage; the sight had Samson’s heart stopping suddenly with fear ignore the face and run.  The face was not human; his heart had stopped but his legs were still moving; Samson tried to swallow but fear had hold on his throat, it felt like he had a rock wedged deep inside his throat, it was so dry.  He needed to turn, to look in the direction he was running but his brain would not let him; still he ran forward while looking over his shoulder at the Englishman as he chased after him his eyes could not leave the evil that was closing in on him.  He or rather “It” was closing the gap with increasing speed, Somehow Samson was still running along the path even though his eyes were totally focussed on the demon that chased after him; fear had him now and it was not letting go; It was going to happen, you could almost read the script and it did, it was then that he tripped……….! 

Samson was still looking over his shoulder when his foot hit the rut in the ground then his other foot caught on the branch which jutted out from the left hand mound; Samson was falling forwards and downwards, he tried to roll.  His shoulder landed with a loud thud; luckily his head managed to avoid the rock and just hit into the dirt; Samson rolled onto his front, onto his hands and knees.  His face was inches away from a pile of bear pooh oh no bears and demons he rose to his feet as the footsteps approached from behind I’m done for!  Samson turned seeing the Englishman now twenty metres away and gaining he was moving almost ghostlike over the ground; almost invisible yet there in front of him, in his line of vision the demon was gaining.  ‘Run’ he spoke it aloud the words escaping from him as he tried to register what he had just said to himself; he suddenly came back alive, his brain controlling his senses once again.  Samson was not caught yet and instantly he sprang back into action as he sprung up from the floor and turning away from his quarry Samson ran once more, one final time into the fray!  Then suddenly as he sprinted forward a movement caught his eye on the path up ahead?  Directly in-front of him blocking his route; a large black bear was blocking the path, standing directly in front of the route Samson was heading!  Samson stopped dead in his tracks demon behind, bear in front, can this get any worse?  His first thought was to just collapse; collapse and let them take him whichever one wanted him the most they can battle over me but then his second thought came?

The Indian man in his dreams had told him; he pictured the man and his words “do not fear the wolf or the great bear” what did he mean and who was he?  More importantly could he be trusted?  What option do you have Samson!  It was true; he was right out of options the demon was nearly upon him; Samson did not look behind, everything was now happening in slow motion.  His brain told him to follow the Indian man’s words to do as he had told him in his dreams; his mind was made up as he began running again forward; forward toward the black bear; toward the black bear that now reared up onto his hind legs, toward the black bear and his certain death!

The bear had now completely risen up on its hind legs, standing taller than before, showing his height and fearlessness as Samson ran toward it; as he got closer and closer Samson realised that the bear was not even looking at him his sole attention was on the thing that was chasing after him!  Samson had now reached the bear and was ducking as the bear stepped forward and around him swiping with its mighty paw; Samson heard the blow connect with the demons head sending him careering into the undergrowth.  The bear roared as the demon rose to his feet and launched at the big black beast.  The bears teeth sank into the demons shoulder; harder and harder, deeper and deeper it bit into him; until its bottom jaw and top jaw reached each other then with an almighty yank the bear swung its head with all its force.  Samson had stopped; he watched as the demons arm ripped from his body; his face not human he bit back at the black bear; but the bear deflected the attack with his mighty paw.  The swipe caught the demons chest, knocking him momentarily off balance.  With his only arm the demon grabbed the bear’s neck, but the bear swung another paw, its claws scratching the demons face, the force nearly knocking the head from the off the demons neck and shoulders. 

Movement caught Samson’s eye further back along the track it was the large coloured man, or what was the large coloured man as now he too had become inhuman!  The bear turned to face the new foe, roaring loudly at this new oncoming demon; Samson heard a familiar voice in his head “run little warrior; run!”  The voice came to him like a voice in dreams; Samson did as he had been instructed and ran side on along the bank following the dirt path; refusing to look behind, his sole focus was now along the path.

     *           *          *          *          * 

 

Cowboy minus an arm lunged at the big black bear just before Johnson could pull his gun from his holster; the bear stuck out his mighty arm quick to deflect the blow.  Then just as Cowboy turned to attack once more the bear’s claws entered Cowboys body around his kidney area; with all its force it flung the defeated body to the floor as it prepared for its next attack.  Johnson had already withdrawn his pistol and now fired several shots into the bear as it moved toward him.  Each shot that he fired hit the bear as it moved step by ever slowing step until eventually the huge beast collapsed to the floor defeated; its huge body trying to capture each last breath until Johnson walked up and shot the beast in the head ‘die you fuck!’ his demonic voice had taken on a whole new sound!

Cowboy was lying on the floor bleeding out; one arm missing and the other was pressed to where his kidneys had previously been ‘hhhhellp me’ he whispered hoarsely.

Johnsons voice had now returned to normal ‘you dead boy; you ain’t gonna be fuckin no more mommas’ his loud southern accent boomed as he aimed the pistol to Cowboys head and shot; there was no remorse as he stood above his partner in crime.  Staring at the two dead bodies before him, Johnson licked his lips before his face began moving around; bubbling and bumping around his face; he turned his attention back to the boy fucking boy!

    *            *          *          *          *

 

Samson had heard the shots and knew the bear had eventually stood no chance; shot followed shot seven in total then there was a short pause followed by another shot then another.  Samson had to get away from here he looked around seeing a familiar sight; it was the love-heart tree.  I’ve been before, earlier in the day ‘the cave’ it was around here about half a mile he was sure; half a mile along the side of the bank; hope returned if he kept moving forward he would eventually reach the cave.  If he could make it into the cave where he stayed the night previously the men would not be able to get through the small gap into the cavern; Samson was certain that he would be safe in there I have to reach the safety of that cave!

As he moved along the slope his tread nearly lost its footing on more than one occasion; slightly slipping on the narrow track, each time he managed to correct his positioning.  Samson knew if the coloured man came into view before he reached the cave he would be shot; the man was trigger happy, but slow!  Samson had noticed that he was not as quick as the Englishman; the Englishman had kept up a good pace leaving the coloured man who he had heard was named Johnson way behind him.  Samson was glad that his Father had made him take up soccer and running; it was this fitness that had kept him alive since he had found himself thrust into this nightmare.  A cold feeling went down his spine; some inner feeling was telling him that the man was gaining that he was in real danger again!

Samson rounded a curve in the bank and there in front of his eyes around forty or so metres away, its mouth gaping wide; was the mouth of the cave and his sanctuary.  His mouth was so dry now he was finding it hard to breath; his lungs were gasping for air; his throat was becoming swollen and his airways were shrinking.  It was as if his throat were about to seize shut; his tonsils felt like exploding; the soreness nearly making him gag.  Samson tried to spit but could not find the energy to clear his mouth; as he tried again he began to cough this nearly making him gag again get to the cave; you’ve got to get to the cave!  Twenty steps, nineteen, eighteen keep going; you can do it five steps, four, three, two, one; Samson stepped into the cool mouth of the cave.  It looked spooky in the daylight reminding him of the film “The Empire Strikes Back” where they flew into the cave in the asteroid belt but really it was a monster’s mouth forget that you’ve been in here before, besides what’s the alternative? Turn back…… back to them?  That thought made him want to give a nervous swallow but the pain in trying nearly had him retching; as he now reached the first tunnel; on his hands and knees Samson entered the tunnel.  Pushing the spear on before him feeling and prodding his way along deeper into the black hole; he had a thought that this must be how a blind man must feel, frightened and scared of what unknown danger lay before them, but still he moved through the darkness!

Just wanting to collapse Samson found the energy to crawl down the pitch black tunnel; cursing himself for leaving the backpack ‘the torch; Jesus you idiot; you left the God damn torch’ his small voice echoing loudly around him.  Blindly and with his head twice hitting the low roof of the tunnel he made it to where the tunnel forked off left and right, on instinct he took the left hand path until eventually he banged his head again, this time harder ‘aaargggh’ the sound of his voice echoing once more around him, the roof had now lowered considerably.  You know the cave….he doesn’t Samson belly crawled the last few metres until he dropped into the chamber he had slept in the previous night; he clambered into the middle of the chamber, hearing the odd drop of water plop into the pool at the far end of the cavern.  Samson now had another fear the snake teeth; where the hell did I put the heads? He remembered reading that the poison was still in them even when the snake was dead; he had to find them safely before he ended up puncturing himself on their sharp teeth; if he did that the outcome would be severe he would probably end up killing himself!

                           *          *          *          *          *

 

The Mexican had already picked up the backpack left by the boy earlier and was now walking along the path to where Cowboys body lay dead; he reached the body.  He looked upon the scene; scanning every millimetre of the site, no expression came over his features; his eyes like pools of tar as he stared, first at Cowboy then the dead bear; something about it all told him it was not right.  Cowboy had chased the boy and the bear attacked him; why not attack the boy?  Bear attacks were rare especially by black bears but they were not unknown; but now as he looked upon the dead body of his fellow murderer and compatriot in crime he was stung by the ferocity of the scene before him.  His senses told him this was more than just a bear attack!  He looked around again, his right eye began to twitch; there was some other magic at work here, they had some kind of unseen foe aiding the boy; working against them?  The Mexican knew that he would have to draw this foe out into the open; only then could he deal with it properly, once he knew what it was, this new enemy.  But he also knew he could not be defeated he had the help of a power no living thing could comprehend; they would catch the boy and use it against this unseen force; his eye twitched again several times, his scars now looking prominent and sore from their redness!

                           *          *          *          *          *

'Samson' Chapter 9 'The Campervan'

CHAPTER 9 ‘The campervan’

 

 

The sound of the car had now long gone; but still Samson marched towards the area where he had heard the sound; just below him was the stream again; Samson shimmied down the small slope to the bank that edged along the slow flowing water.  He put one foot on a rock in the middle of the stream while the other supported him on the bank then bending over he cupped his hands, filling them with cool water; he pulled them up to his mouth and took a mouthful of the cool liquid, his mouth had felt dry for some time but now it felt like heaven to have moisture again.  Standing back upright he let out a sigh as he stretched; arching his back, pushing his shoulders forward while pulling his arms backwards.  He stretched out several times; he had no idea of the time but guessed he had been walking for around two hours since he had left the safety of the cave safety! Was the cave really that safe? ‘I think not; a snake attack doesn’t seem too safe to me!’

Samson moved his other foot onto the rock then took the little jump to the other side; just missing the small patch of mud ‘phewww!’  Something caught his eye as he was about to walk away, he stopped abruptly; his head turned to the edge of the mud?  There in front of him right at the edge of the mud was a footprint; more like a boot-print and worst of all it was fresh!  Samson’s breathing slowed but his heart pumped faster; his eyes were drawn in every direction; he tried to look at which direction the boot was heading; all the time constantly checking around him.  It was no use they could be heading in any direction and at a guess he would put a time on it of around one to two hours any longer and he thought the ground would be much drier; this print was damp!  So what do I do?  Carry on to the road or take another direction?  They may be waiting for me at the road, but then again they may not even know there is a road there, it’s not like we’re in the busiest place on earth?  He looked back at the boot-print it was definitely moving this way from the stream; Samson had a thought if he went back to the opposite bank and walked in the opposite direction to what the print was moving he was sure that he would still meet the road, but it would be further along.  It was not a brilliant plan but at least it was a plan and so long as he didn’t bump into them the plan would be a success, then the negative voice returned.

 ‘What if you do bump into them; that isn’t much of a success!’

He swallowed hard leave me alone!

Samson leaped across the stream and began moving quickly in the opposite direction the spear was now held at his side as he jogged back up the incline; soon he was back on the straight and still looking over his shoulder.  He ran quickly now until he was stopped in his tracks by a sound!  A twig snapped off to his right about sixty metres away; Samson ducked behind a tree; his heart beating heavily; sweat soaked his brow through his makeshift hat, his fleece jacket was soaked and sticking to his skin as he peered cautiously around the large trunk.  A deer saw him and turning instantly the animal darted away through the forest undergrowth sending leaves flying in its wake ‘oh God! Thank you!’ he whispered as he propped his head against the bark ‘thank you!’

He leant back against the bark getting his breathing and heart rate back under control and, he took steady breath’s it’s ok Samson, it’s safe.  Closing his eyes he inhaled through his nose ok time to move again he opened his eyes and pushed himself off from the tree.  Cautiously he began walking again.

 

Killdeer Mountain, North Dakota 10:30am local time:

 

The old man sat resting against a large rock the night had taken its toll; he had not slept for twenty hours.  During the night he had danced; ancient dances around the fire, dances that had been passed down from generation to generation; dances to ward off evil to fight evil.  His head rested back on the warm hard surface of the rock, he reached out to an old aluminium water bottle the kind the army used; then raising it he unscrewed the top and sipped the now warm contents.  Annawan knew he would not sleep properly until this was all over; he was also afraid!  Afraid for the boy and afraid for Akecheta, it was a huge task for him to fight this evil which now covered the lands and skies but what choice did I have? I had to send him!  Shaking his head gently he screwed the top back onto the water bottle; he wished dearly that he could have taken this task personally but he also knew he did not possess the strength any more.  ‘I’m an old man now’ he spoke solemnly to himself his voice cracked and weak, the two nights without sleep had clearly taken their toll, Annawan knew he needed rest, if he were to keep up his battle against the evil that had been cast upon them.  His wrinkles creased above his forehead ‘definitely not an attacking hawk anymore’ Annawan placed the water bottle on the floor at the base of the rock.  Something told him this was going to be a long day; he closed his eyes and remembered thoughts of his childhood; of the things he had been taught and of his tribe…….then sleep finally took over him.

 

The Rocky Mountains 13:20 local time:

 

Akecheta had now reached the other side of the small mountain, a river flowed across his path; the hawk now circled the tree-line on the opposite bank.  The river blocking his path seemed quite shallow although the current looked to be quite powerful especially in the middle; whatever the case it was the river which stood between him and the hawk which he had followed the whole morning.  Knowing that he had to continue to follow the hawk he stepped into the cold water; the feeling made his veins tingle more than they had been previously; he felt vibrant his whole body felt alive; he felt invincible as he waded out further into the middle. 

Once Akecheta reached the middle of the river he was waist deep; he crouched down soaking his hot sweaty body and stayed there motionless for several minutes immersed up to his neck as he cooled himself in the cold flowing water.  With his body now under water he felt weightless as the current pushed through him; Akecheta was at one with the river; his eyes closed tight as his mind took him.

The young warrior was now a salmon swimming; jumping out of the water catching a fly; he was on a journey down the river; he could see other fish as they swam by his side; he smiled at them, raced with them.  On and on his journey took him as he travelled further and further down the river, every now and again a stream would join from either of the sides; Akecheta turned into one of the adjoining streams.  He swam against the current around bends as he went deeper into the forest; it was very shallow now, he could continue no more, he had to stop.  His tail flicked as he maintained his position in the shallow stream he could see out further along the stream as three men crossed his path and then they were gone!  He waited for what to him seemed like a very long time; then a boy came into view, descending the incline down to the stream.  The boy stood astride of the stream cupping his hands he drank the water then the boy stepped to the opposite bank about to follow the path of the three men!  The boy stopped suddenly something had caught his eye?  Akecheta watched as the boy jumped back to the opposite bank and began moving in a parallel direction to the three men!  He wanted to stand up and shout at the boy to turn back, or to wait until him, Akecheta could catch up with him; it was no good he was helpless as the boy walked steadily away from him. 

Akecheta opened his eyes; his head was now underwater, he was back in the middle of the river; his hair weightless around him as he stood upright, the water poured from his body back into the river.  He breathed in the air as he looked down the river down there, the boy was down there in that direction he looked in the direction the river flowed, that was the direction he had seen the boy from the same side as he was now leaving; he was caught in two minds not sure whether to go back and follow the bank or carry on as he had been all morning and follow the hawk?  The hawk had brought him this far why doubt it now after all from up there the hawk could see everything where as Akecheta could not, he began wading to the other side.  His thoughts now turned to the three men they were heavily armed compared to his bow, tomahawk and bowie knife; but that was how his ancestors had fought the white man all those years ago they will hold me in good stead! 

                           *          *          *          *          *

 

Samson’s legs were aching as he continued along the path which was now covered in stinging nettles, he trod carefully aware that he was now flattening a path.  A path that could now be followed; it worried him but he had no alternative but to keep on if they come across it they’ll be led directly to me sweat dripped down his spine. 

‘They’ll follow you and kill you; you’ll see!’

He shook his head ‘stop thinking like that; think positive’ he let out a sigh as he glanced over his shoulder.

The bed of stinging nettles had now finished, he let out a sigh of relief, he was now back on the narrow dusty trail; constantly watching his tracks.  Walking for a further twenty metres he stopped and looked behind him; he could see the flattened trail he had left through the nettles but after that there were no more of his footprints for anyone to follow; that cheered him a little.  Now he pondered on changing his course away from the dusty track; perhaps he would go through the brush into the undergrowth and create a new track?  The t-shirt on top of his head was soaked as he tried to scratch an itch beneath it.  I could just go off the track and maybe create a little diversion should they follow; do like they do in the films then double back onto the path further along ‘yes that’s the plan’ he whispered. 

‘They won’t fall for that trick they’ll walk on by your little diversion and they’ll follow you and catch you and then they’ll kill you, you’ll be dead!’

‘God this is doing my head in’ stop listening to this stupid voice in your head and do what you know is right; make a new path; you never know if they’re following you right now?  With that Samson left the dusty path he was on and began walking into the undergrowth every now and again he would flatten some grass and break a small twig, he did this on purpose, he wanted them to follow this “set-up route”.  Samson walked for two hundred metres then turning left he did the same before turning left once again; he walked for a further two hundred metres then joined the dusty track a little further ahead than he was before.

‘You’ve just wasted your time you silly boy!’  

‘Well it’s my time to waste; if I want to waste it I will’ Samson’s clothes were now soaked through from the heat of the sun; they rubbed at his wet skin.  His feet were sore and were now badly blistered, he tried to blank the pain out of his mind.

‘They hurt don’t they?  Your feet; they can’t keep going like this!’

‘No they don’t hurt me actually.’

‘They do and you know it; why don’t you just give yourself up; let them catch you!’

‘Are you crazy………give myself up’ Samson almost laughed aloud.

‘You know they’ll catch you; you know that don’t you!  They’ll catch you and kill you……….. just like we did with your family!’

Samson stopped these aren’t my thoughts he closed his eyes deep in thought, the thoughts had just said ‘like we did with your family’ ‘it’s them again they’re getting inside my mind; those devils’ he raised his hands up to his head and squeezed in at his temples ‘stop it! Leave me alone; I won’t let you beat me; I won’t let you catch me and I won’t let you kill me!’  Samson held his own head tightly and waited; he waited for the voice to return but no voice came; he let go of his head and began walking again.  How the hell can they do that?  How can they talk to me through my thoughts; how do they get into my dreams and even send animals to spy on me he thought back to the crow the previous day ‘they even sent rattlesnakes to try and kill me; that’s impossible men can’t do that!’  Samson remembered the face of the man in the bedroom doorway; the way his features had moved around his face; he thought about when he landed at the bottom of the cliff and how his three pursuers had stood above looking down at him, he remembered how their eyes had glowed red that’s not right, not possible, not normal!  Then the wind that had chased him through the forest, something was definitely out of the ordinary with his pursuers.

Deep down he knew he was not being followed by men they were animals; demons or devils and they were evil, pure evil, he had seen it with his own eyes and now the evil was after him.  There had always been a battle between good and evil it had gone on throughout time, Samson looked up to the sun as the heat beat down upon him ‘and now I’ve joined the battle’ he whispered as he shielded his eyes from the bright rays of sunshine.  Samson pulled the pack from his back and sat down in the shade against the base of a Juniper tree; he pulled out his water bottle and took a mouthful.  After he had drank a little he pulled out two pieces of the rattlesnake meat and ate them slowly, once they had gone he washed them down; then leaning his head back he closed his eyes.  With his body battered and beaten Samson fell into a deep and desperate sleep! 

In his dreams he could hear a noise; a very feint noise; his mind struggled to make out what the sound was?  He had heard this sound before; many times, thousands even millions………a car!  He woke at a start, jumping instantly to his feet realising that the road must be close; he ignored everything as he began sprinting along the dusty dirt path.  Samson sprinted faster and faster oblivious to the pain from the blisters on his feet, oblivious to his aching limbs, oblivious to his bruised body.  Without any hesitation he ran on; he rounded a corner; up ahead through the brake in the trees he could see tarmac, pure black beautiful tarmac; it was a road!  Samson could not believe it; he was running toward a road and there was a station-wagon heading in this very direction, he now ran even faster I’ve got to get there before the campervan!

Reaching the tree-line just as the station-wagon passed his position Samson ran through the gap in the trees onto the tarmac shouting ‘hey……..here; stop, stop the car’ he ran into the road waving his arms above his head.  He watched desperately as the station-wagon drove away; his heart sank as he waved his hands in the air in desperation; suddenly the station-wagon slowed; slowing until it came to a steady stop.  Samson’s smile beamed as he began running down the road toward the waiting vehicle; he was safe at last, I’m outta here!

A movement caught his eye off to the right of the station-wagon in the opposite side of the forest; a figure came out through the underbrush, it was a man he wore a baseball cap!  Another figure walked through beside him a large coloured man then from Samson’s side a thinner man wearing a stetsun; they walked up to the stationary wagon.  Samson saw the driver an older man in his sixties exit the vehicle; the man in the baseball cap pulled out a gun and shot the old man through the eye at point blank range.  The old man dropped like a stone onto the hot tarmac floor; in the passenger seat was a woman; the baseball capped man pointed the pistol through the open door and let off two shots.  All the shots were loud; birds took to flight in the nearby area; Samson was motionless a voice in his head telling him to run; but still he stared at the station-wagon and the  three men that crowded it; the distance was around 100 metres away. 

The first reaction was one of fear, dread and temporary paralysis, Samson was almost in a daze; it was his one chance for survival, to get away from this nightmare and now they had again come back to haunt him.  Standing there alone and finally beaten, Samson was dead on his legs; his arms; his whole body ached I can’t go on.  Finally he had given up the fight knowing his legs could no longer carry him, they felt like they were laden with lead, he knew that it was finally over; his head shook sadly from side to side what can I do, against these people?  What do I have to do to get away from them?  He so desperately wanted it all to end and now after all his running he had reached the end of the road; how fitting to finally reach somewhere where he could get to safety and now the route was closed.

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Johnson began walking along the side of the station wagon toward the boy fuckin shit of a boy.  Cowboy adjusted his Stetson and turning he too began walking along the opposite side of the station wagon to Johnson, he too was heading toward the boy.  The Mexican was just admiring his handiwork, he loved to see the dead, he holstered his weapon and turned to watch Johnson and Cowboy as they met up at the back of the station wagon; his two partners in crime as they walked toward the one person who could identify them!  The one person who could describe them and even give an artist impression, the one person who knew that they were not just men, for here was “The Devils Advocate” and today his wrath would be biblical…………..

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Run; for God’s sake run!  Samson’s brain was coming back to the present you’ve to get away from them, don’t give up now, not after all that you’ve done, all that you’ve been through, look what they’ve taken away from you, you owe it to them, to Mom, Dad and Candice.  You owe it to the man and woman in the station wagon and God knows how many others that these evil creatures have killed!  On that last thought Samson turned and ran back toward the cover of the trees; another shot rang out, it whizzed by his ear hitting a tree off to his left just as he entered the tree-line.  Samson began sprinting again; he crashed through branches as he tried to reach the path he had used earlier; twigs scratched his face and pulled at his clothing, there were thorns and nettles, but still he scrambled his way through them.  Two more shots as Samson stopped dead in his tracks and it was that instinct to stop that saved his life as the two bullets buried themselves into a tree in front of him; exactly where he would have been if he had not stopped.  Now Samson continued running, zigzagging where possible until his leading foot hit the path; Samson was now off in flight; stooping in several places as he moved speedily along come on run, keep running, put some distance between you and them.

Away to his right he heard sounds; heavy sounds as two of the men entered the undergrowth in his pursuit, he figured it was the coloured man and the one in the stetsun.  More like he hoped it was those two; Samson ran for his life; he rounded a bend and ran faster and faster, deeper and deeper into the forest.  He ran the way he had come earlier; Samson could tell from the layout of the path that he had been here previously; he reached the tree where he had rested earlier; his pack was still there just where he had left it leaning against the trunk.  The spear lay to the right of the pack; he did not know whether to pick the pack up or carry on running?  Samson stopped and reaching down he picked up the spear; footsteps approached the bend in the path as Samson ignored his pack and sprinted as fast a she could away from his pursuers run, keep running!

He rounded another bend in the track just as it opened up onto a 400 metre flat stretch; Samson knew that if he did not reach the next bend before the men came into view he would be dead, he would be a sitting target for his pursuers and their guns!  His legs moved like engine pistons on a steam train as he flew down the open stretch, running like an athlete, faster than he had ever ran in his life; he was a quick runner at school but now his speed was phenomenal.  On and on he ran not daring to glance over his shoulder; that would slow him and the moment he slowed it would give them the advantage no don’t look behind just keep running forward all thoughts of pain had evaporated from his mind as he negotiated his way along the track, every step he took brought him closer and closer to the end of the 400 metre stretch of path.  Each time his foot landed on the floor he expected to feel a bullet pierce into him and each time it didn’t hope began to spring from within.

Samson reached the bend just as a shout carried down the length of the track ‘stop boy’ it was the coloured man, his loud southern drool was easily distinguishable; then there was another shot just as Samson rounded the corner.  The bullet whizzed by behind him shooting on past Samson and into the forest beyond.  He could have laughed if he wasn’t in such a serious predicament; his thoughts once again went to school and his PE teacher Mr Davies, how proud would he have been of Samson at the speed he had just run the 400 metres?  Jesus Christ Samson, concentrate on getting away from these assholes!  Samson could not afford to let his pace slip; he knew he was tired but he also knew the two men must also be tiring; just so long as he carried on moving at his current pace he could get some distance between them!  A sudden thought came into his mind pain, I need to stop the pain as he ran faster and faster along the path; his feet were sore, the blisters had burst.  The pain shooting up his calves and into his thighs, a numbness and tingling, like a hot knife had been stabbed into his calves, the heat surge shot through his veins, making him feel nauseous ‘ignore it Samson keep going!’

Still sprinting but hobbling at the same time Samson came to an area he recognised from earlier in the day, it was where he had taken the slight detour in the hope of leading them off should he have been followed.  What a waste of time that was………..or was it?  He now realised that the detour could still work if he watched his step and crept further along, covering his tracks they may still take the detour route?  That may buy him a little time; he stopped and snapped a couple more branches on the path that led to the detoured route, before hobbling carefully around the next bend.  He was positive that he had not disturbed the earth along the pathway he had taken; bending down he picked up a large brick and hurled as far as he could into the undergrowth into the direction he wanted them to follow.  Now he carried on regardless of what his pursuers did; he came to the path of trodden down stinging nettles and negotiated his way along where he had walked earlier; hearing that the men had taken the detour.  He smiled to himself as he listened to their noise.  They were quite loud as they made their way up the bank to his left; he could hear branches snapping then a feint voice ‘this way Johnson; come on keep up!’  That’s the English man, they’ve taken the bait he walked forward crouching so as not to be seen from their higher vantage point. 

Samson’s expression did not change he was afraid that these men were going to catch him as his pace slowed to a mere walk; he could feel the leather on his hiking boots rubbing into his heels as the heat from the pain burned through his system.  His socks felt wet, either blood or sweat he was not sure; he was through the stinging nettles now and could hear that his pursuers were now at the top of the bank out of his line of sight.  They would now have to run across the top then back down the incline onto the path where he was now; that would probably buy him an extra 500 metres lead; he was not sure; after all they seemed to be moving a lot quicker than him they’ve probably not got the blisters that I’ve got ‘they must be used to chasing people’ yeah they do look like they enjoy it!

Just then Samson’s luck ran out as his foot slipped on the edge of the bank making him lose his footing, then his balance, he swayed slightly; his weight trying to drag him down the bank but his hopes trying to steady him!  His weight won the battle; Samson slipped down the slope; rolling twice sideways on until he managed to turn and slide the rest of the way feet first.  This manoeuvre probably saved his life but even so it meant his trousers rode up his sweat stained calves just as he slid through a patch of the stinging nettles; he wanted to scream but couldn’t, more like wouldn’t.  The last two days Samson had found a bravery that he never in his wildest dreams thought he possessed; now as he slid to a stop at the bottom of the bank, tears filled his eyes.  He had come to a stop right next to the stream, looking into the flowing water he felt his bravery deserting him.  Samson began to sob with pain and self pity; that was until he heard the shout!

 ‘Cowboy; that way he’s down there’ the voice was a loud boom through the tranquil forest; all else around was silent.

Another voice now this time from the Englishman ‘where I can’t see anything?’

 The coloured man shouted again ‘I saw a dust cloud down there; he’s gone down the bank, the little prick is down there; it was him I’m sure!’

Samson began crawling along the underside of the bank sideways on from his pursuers are they all there; all three of them?  Up above on the bank looking for me?  I’ve only heard two voices; not heard the one in the baseball cap; so where is he?  Samson began scanning the area around him, he didn’t like it; the man in the baseball cap the evil one could be anywhere; could even be watching him right now just keep crawling you have to get away from here; keep moving Samson!  Stealthily he crawled along the underside of the bank, his tears had stopped as he focussed on his escape.  As he crawled along the underside of the bank, directly below where it overhung the stream; his hand caught on a jagged piece of rock making him wince silently in pain.  He could not afford to stop, several times his knees caught on protruding stones, and he felt his trousers rip in various places.  Just another pain to go with the ones he already had; to go with the blisters, scratches and grazes, another pain to go with his bruised ribs and aching muscles and the stinging rash; it was basically going from bad to worse.  Yet amazingly he was still alive; how he was alive he did not know but he was alive and as long as he breathed he would fight for his life.  After all that was how the human body and mind was programmed; it was programmed from day dot to survive and that was what Samson was now doing surviving every way he could.  The pain would eventually subside, just like his recent tears had and if he could just get through this current predicament, then who knows what can happen!  Up ahead he could see that the overhang opened out, he would be in the open again; a sitting duck on a rifle range I’ve got no choice but to keep moving this way; come on Samson be brave and stay focussed.  

Samson eyed up his surroundings; the stream curved off to his right; if it was only deeper he could have chanced swimming it, but at thirty centimetres it was not deep enough; he looked desperately for other options.  Up ahead at the edge of the overhang he could see an American plum tree; it’s ripened fruits covered the floor beneath its large umbrella canopy; Samson suddenly had a hungry urge I need to eat and my mouth’s dry after all he was heading in that direction; why not eat some on the way if I can get to the edge I can probably reach out and grab some?

Samson made it to the edge of the overhang; to the spot where the American plum tree grew, it was around four metres in height; its roots kept moist from the slow flowing stream.  Around the base of the American plum were fallen fruits some had dropped or even rolled further away from the tree, toward the ledge on top of the overhang, making them very near to the stream bank; Samson counted around six of the fruits all within reaching distance.  Reaching out Samson pulled two of the fruits toward him; he rubbed them up on his combat trousers and began eating them; he had not realised how dry his mouth had become, his tongue had stuck to the inside of his cheek.  Forcefully he pulled it loose and bit on the juicy fruit; his mouth became an oasis of flavour, making him close his eyes and savour the taste; he almost forgot about why he was there in the first place.  His mouth had been that dry that it hurt a little to swallow, the plum skin caught on the inside of his throat; sticking to his oesophagus.  Samson tried to swallow several times in an attempt to dislodge the skin; he felt like coughing to see if that would move the piece of plum skin but knew the moment he did that he would give himself away!  A thought came over him where are they now?  Samson had not heard any sound from his pursuers for a short while, did that mean they had gone or were they hiding and waiting; waiting for him to make his move?  He began eating the other plum, as he swallowed this second one it dislodged the piece of skin from the first, sending it with the fruit back on its voyage down through his gullet and into the empty chasm of his stomach.  He picked the stone from his mouth and dropped it with the other by his side; reaching out quickly he snatched another two plums; this was heaven his mouth was moist again; but for how long?  He discarded these stones with the others as his inner self regained its composure; his mind began registering the pains from his battered body again; telling him constantly how much he ached; eating the plums had taken away those thoughts but now the plums were gone the pain came back with a vengeance….then the realisation hit him that he was probably trapped.

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