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!
* * * * *
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!
* * * * *
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