'Samson' Chapter 13 'Trust in me'

Chapter 13 ‘Trust in me’

 

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Leave me alone’ he prodded again blindly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘I do not fear you!’

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

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

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

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

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

‘I am Akecheta of the Sioux nation!’

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

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

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

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

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

 

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All the best

Dean Horton