'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! 

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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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'Samson' Chapter 8 'The evil that men do'

CHAPTER 8 ‘The evil that men do’

 

 

It was dark now, in the outside world, but here in the cave where Samson sat next to his fire it was light as the fire illuminated the cavern around him; he did not need the light from his torch unless he wanted to look into the corners where the darkness still clung tight.  Samson had drunk plenty of water he had also now eaten the potato crisps that he had taken from the cabin; now though he was totally out of food; tomorrow he would have to find some berries I’ll use the survival book to show me what I can eat!  Samson lay back on the bed of heathers he had made earlier; he thought of many things and then sleep and exhaustion came over him as he drifted into a deep sleep that lasted hours, he dreamt of many things; happy things and happy times until the nightmares came and took hold!

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The Mexican sat in the clearing as the moon shone bright overhead; Cowboy and Johnson were somewhere off to the right around thirty metres away they were talking to each other, their voices very low, every now and again a laugh could be heard as it travelled on the breeze.  The Mexican was oblivious to anything they were saying his thoughts were elsewhere; they were with the crow he replayed what the crow had seen earlier; seeing through the creature’s eyes.  The boy knew that the crow had been following him but that didn’t matter they were close now; tomorrow they would have him then all this could be put behind them and Mr Calcone would pay them what he owed.  The Mexican mumbled words; words that any normal man would not speak; they were the Devils words and when these words were spoken the Devil acted!  The Mexican had his eyes closed; he was now seeing other things; a school; children catching a school bus, a family doing things together.  The Mexican recognised the family as the one they had killed; the family that he and his partners had killed the previous day; now he was inside the boy’s dreams; inside the boy’s nightmares!

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Samson was deep in sleep tossing and turning; around him the shadows danced on the walls; the fire cackled away as the regular drips from the water landed in the pool below them.  Samson was oblivious to all the sounds as his mind saw the men killing his family once again, the replay set on continuous.  He watched the horror over and over again, a witness as the evil unfolded, a witness who was helpless to help and then he was running, running for his life!  On and on he ran through the darkness and the forest as it closed in around him, he saw eyes that glowed red, heard the loud wind, saw the faces and the features as they moved around them.  He saw a fire, watched it as it came to life, shapes on the walls began forming; dancing around him; faces looking at him; faces that changed to different forms, different features.  Spirits crept up on him watching him from directly above tickling his neck.

He was unaware of the snakes as they entered the entrance of the cave; six Rattlesnakes from various parts of the forest entered the mouth of the cave; they arrived at the same time; entering the cave as one!  En-masse they made their way into the second chamber slivering into the tunnel where they moved to the T-junction instantly taking the left turn.  They were now entering the small gap as one by one they entered the chamber; the chamber where Samson slept, caught up in his own nightmare!

 

The Killdeer Mountains; North Dakota; 23:40 local time:

 

Annawan sat beneath the cloud covered sky, the moon had long been covered by cloud, an unnatural cloud; the small fire in front of him glowed a deep blue as he chanted his ancient songs.  He closed his eyes as he continued his quiet chants; after several minutes his eyes entered a cave, he travelled through tunnels turning until he entered a large chamber; a fire burned on a ledge.  Next to the fire was a pile of logs and next to these a bed of heathers; on top of this bed was a form; a human form; a small boy lay asleep.  Six rattlesnakes slivered along the floor of the chamber; they moved slowly past the pool and across the floor; toward the sleeping boy!  Annawan spoke slowly ‘Kikta; Cicala wanji (wake-up little one)’ his voice was wise and soothing ‘Kikta; etaha lena Zuzeka Iha-ble (wake-up from these snake dreams)’ the old man puffed up his cheeks and blew gently.  Then he spoke in English ‘wake up little warrior’ with his eyes still shut tight he smiled sadly as the flames on the fire where he sat on the mountainside subsided, retreating into the fire, the fire was now just a faint glow of embers.  Annawan’s age old features looked sadly through time and space into the cave where the young boy was about to be attacked, his chanting had returned although now it was just an unrecognisable murmur!

He continued his steady chanting with his head swaying steadily from side to side, his eyes shut tight; sadness and age the only expression on his face!

 

The Rocky Mountains; 23:55 local time:

 

Samson could hear a voice in his dreams; in his nightmares, the voice was talking soothingly talking to him; instructing him; the words were foreign to him until they came in English!  Samson could recognise the voice it was the man who spoke to him the previous night in his sleep the man who told him not to fear the wolf or the bear he was talking again ‘wake up little warrior’ he whispered.  Samson’s mind was trying to establish who the man was talking too then suddenly Samson’s second voice told him he’s talking to you; wake up!

He woke with a start; dazed and still half asleep; Samson shook his head, clearing his vision; something felt strange; he could sense danger all around him.  Instinctively he rose to his feet; the shadows from the flames danced around the walls, they were alive the shadows are alive; how is this possible?  Samson caught movements along the floor?  His mind was still not quite with him as he tried to shake himself back into reality, he looked from the moving shadows on the walls back to the shapes that moved along the floor what are they suddenly he caught something in the firelight ‘snakes’ he spoke it out loud; the word echoed around the cavern.  Instinctively he reached down and grabbed his spear as one of the snakes moved toward him; Samson held the spear at arms length and stabbed at the snake.  The spear pierced the snake halfway along its body Samson pulled the spear back but the snake was still attached to the point; it writhed with pain until Samson swung the spear with both his arms.  The snake detached and went flying through the air to the far side of the cavern where it crashed into the wall killing it outright.  A second snake struck out at Samson’s leg causing Samson to leap over the fire; the snake followed in Samson’s path striking again until it landed in the hot embers; where it fought the flames to escape; its attempts were futile as the flames took hold; the snake sizzled to its death.

Another snake slivered toward him as he brandished the spear like a cosh and brought it down with all his might; the strike caught the snake at the top of its head, instantly paralysing it; Samson then stabbed it with the spear tip.  His heart was pumping like there would be no tomorrow; adrenalin flowed through his veins; another movement to his right then behind him he could hear a rattle; he turned just as the curled snake struck out!  Samson stepped sideways as the rattlesnake landed by his boot; without hesitation Samson brought his boot crashing down onto the rattlesnakes head. 

With his other boot Samson kicked into the flames; sending hot embers over the rattlesnake that approached from his front; he reached down to grab a log when something to his right shot at him quickly!  As Samson’s right hand grabbed one of the logs a Snake struck; its teeth caught onto Samson’s jacket sleeve; luckily its teeth missed his skin; but now this snake was attached to Samson’s arm sleeve.  Samson flailed his arm around in desperation trying to dislodge the snake; to loosen the snake as the other snake moved toward him!  His left arm grabbed out at another log; picking it up Samson threw it at the advancing snake catching it on its tail; the snake re-coiled backwards then shot forward as it struck through the air toward him!  In desperation Samson brought his right arm around to defend the attack; the other snake was still attached to his sleeve and just as his arm came around the snake which was attached to his sleeve released its grip.  It detached with the force of Samson’s swing it caught the other striking snake just before it impacted with Samson.  The two snakes hit each in mid flight; they flew off to the left as one both of them entwined onto each other!

Samson reached out and picked up his spear; he ran to the two snakes and stabbed through the entwined reptiles; they twitched several times until the lifeless forms went still.  Samson was breathing heavily; he looked around the cavern; the shapes from the shadows had gone; he searched the floor for further movement as he put his boot on the two dead snakes and pulled out his spear.  Samson held the spear out in front of him; looking for more of the dangerous creatures; there was no further movement, but still he was not satisfied.  One by one Samson approached the dead snakes and stabbed each one making sure that he had indeed killed them; he noticed that it was getting darker then he realised why!

‘The fire’ he barked in fear; he had kicked the embers over one of the snakes and now the fire was starting to go out, the cavern was getting darker and Samson knew if he was in darkness he would have no chance fending off another snake attack.  Quickly he grabbed some more logs and twigs and began to place them on the remains of his fire; he dropped to his knees and crouching down he blew gently at the base of the fire.  After twenty or so gentle blows the fire began to catch again, Samson let out a massive sigh; his heart was still beating heavy; his breathing began to stabilise; composure began to return and with it came ideas? 

‘Looks like we’ve got something to eat’ his voice echoed as he walked over and gathered the dead snakes, he piled them up by the pool.  His arm suddenly felt wet and itchy?  Instantly Samson pulled off the fleece jacket and inspected the inside, after this he inspected his own arm; there was something on his skin; it was in the exact same spot as the itch.  He then realised what it was ‘rattlesnake venom’ he whispered; then without any hesitation he threw the jacket into the pool and began to wash the arms of the jacket at the same time he washed the venom from his own arms.  Once he was happy that he had got rid of any evidence of rattlesnake poison he placed his jacket on the bed of heathers and moved it closer to the fire then he untied his penknife from around the end of his spear.

Before he began cooking Samson sharpened the end of the spear with his knife; just in case he had any more visitors.  Once the spear was sharp he turned his attention to the dead rattlesnakes and to his now rumbling stomach.  Samson pulled the survival book from his back pack and searched through until he came to the section ‘Animal Kills – Skinning and cooking’ as he read he would constantly glance over to the entrance of the chamber.  Step 1: Make sure your snake is dead before moving forward to the skinning stage;   be careful when handling the snake's head, as it could still contain poisonous venom. Get rid of the snakes head immediately.  Believe it or not, the decapitated head can still bite for a few hours. Be sure to wear gloves if possible when cutting and disposing of the snake's head!  Samson held up the dead snake in his hands ‘definitely dead’ his voice again echoing around the cavern as the snake flopped down in his hand; as he held it up he was cautious not to go anywhere near the head.  Step 2: Turn the snake belly up then starting at the head make an incision with a sharp knife down the stomach to its tail.  Samson followed the instructions; turning the snake belly up he pierced the spear through the snakes head and held it secure with his left hand.  Then using his right hand he pierced his penknife into the skin just below the head, surprised at how easily his blade went in.  It was tougher now as he tried to slice along the body; he stopped several times often having to revert to a sawing motion.  Eventually Samson had reached the tail; his hand was covered in blood and guts and any other rubbish from the snake’s insides; his face was turned into a ghastly expression.  Step 3: Cut through the tail meat and peel away the meat from the skin; gut your snake meat and wash it off in cold water then cut your meat into three inch slivers.  Samson completed the procedure by washing the meat in the pool again; feeling better once he had got the blood and guts from off his hands. 

Next Samson put the end of his spear into the hot part of the fire and left it heating for a minute then he used the spike; puncturing it into a piece of the meat; he held the spear above the fire; watching as the meat cooked.  After the previous escapade with the snakes Samson had no intention of going back to sleep; he had had enough sleep for one night; he felt strange almost violated!  His dreams had been visited how is that possible?  How can someone come into my dreams while I’m asleep?  The old Indian man had also come to him in his dream and warned him; there was definitely something strange about the whole event; and after what had happened it had put Samson off the notion of sleep for a long time!

                           *          *          *          *          *

 

Akecheta had slept well his visions had taken him into the cave with the small boy; he had seen him defeat the snakes that had been sent to kill him.  A brave boy; a fighter; like me; perhaps we should name him Akecheta too his veins still tingled just as they had the previous day only now he sat looking into the dawn sky; the birds were alive with life; the forest a hive of activity.  It was now his turn to join them; to get him back on the move; to find the small boy and help him against this evil which had been foretold by the elders.  Akecheta rose to his feet; gathering his belongings; he put everything away in its rightful place; he looked at the fire, which was now out and pondered disposing of the remains.  Picking up a stick he scattered the remains of the fire; after he had finished you would not have known anyone had ever been there.  Slinging the rolled blanket over his shoulder he grabbed the bow and arrows and began off in the direction of the small mountain; he had seen the hawk circling in the sky off in the distance and knew it must be a sign?  A sign that he was meant to follow, of that he was most certain; it was Annawan’s hawk and Annawan had told it to guide him to show Akecheta the way; he held his hand to shield the bright sun; the hawk still circled.  Akecheta began to jog; a steady jog as he progressed quickly toward the small mountain, the tingling had returned; his heart pumped true.  So long as the blood flowed through him he would not let Annawan, his tribe or even the memory of the elders down I will fight to the very last breath; of that I promise!

                           *          *          *          *          *

 

Samson had cooked all the rattlesnake meat; eating lots and also storing lots of the cooked meat in the empty crisp wrapper from the previous night’s feast.  He had no idea what time it was, it felt like he had been hiding out in the cave for days, he tried to imagine what a miner trapped underground would feel like, some were trapped for days when mineshafts collapsed.  Most often they were trapped without any food or water at least I had food and water he was glad he had eaten plenty and rested his whole body now felt refreshed.  He also knew that it must be light outside and if it were light he would have to move; move on out of his hiding place back into the open and back into danger; he swallowed perhaps I could stay here? ‘No; that’s not what you’re doing, we’re going to find help and safety!’

“You hope you are.”

He tried to block out the mocking voice; was it his own voice?  Or was it the voice of the man in the forest the one who wore the cap; the one with the scars?  Samson shook his head trying to get the thought of that man out of his mind; he hoped to God he would not see him again.

“Does he answer you; your God?  Does he tell you what to do?”

He shook his head angrily ‘stop it; stop doing this to me!’ Just ignore the voices Samson, keep doing what you’re doing and ignore the voices, you have nothing to fear from yourself, concentrate on the task in hand.  With that last thought he began crawling out of the small opening and into the dark tunnel, he left the small fire to dwindle out on itself; he crawled cautiously back towards the outside world and towards whatever fate awaited him! 

The sun shone brightly through the mouth of the cave lighting up the floor inside, the light made him squint as he looked into it God that hurts he closed them and opened them again, repeating it several times; after each time his vision began to clear.  Samson dragged his pack behind him holding the spear out in front as he climbed out of the small tunnel into the second chamber.  Standing up tall he put his arms through the rucksack straps and dusted himself down time to go he made his way cautiously to the entrance, to the daylight that waited there to greet him; his eyes began to sting as they adjusted to this new brightness.  Samson was not bothered about his eyes stinging, it felt good again to breathe the air, the clean air; once he got to the entrance he scanned the banks above and to the sides of the cave.  His eyes were drawn to the floor around the entrance; he searched the covering looking for any signs of a visitor, a feeling of relief came over him; it looked exactly as it had the previous day; undisturbed well that’s a little bit more good news! 

The heat from the sun warmed him as he placed the t-shirt back onto the top of his head tying it with the bindweed; he held the spear like a walking stick then began walking again.  His route took him downward; down the slope, twice he nearly slipped in the leaves that covered the floor; his eyes always on the lookout for snakes snakes and crows he felt a shiver go all the way down his spine, for all he knew the whole forest was against him.   A feeling deep inside told him that the one in the baseball cap was evil, that it was the man in the baseball cap who had visited his dreams I don’t fancy bumping into him again Samson shivered again.  But he was also visited by the old Indian man and Samson sensed that the Indian man was not evil, he was a good man, of that Samson was sure.  I wish I had a watch he looked up to the sun ‘what time must it be?’

The sun beat down through the canopy above, through the branches of the sugar maples with their helicopter seeds.  He could make out the odd gypsy moth on the undersides of the leaves; holding his hand above his eyes to gain a better sight advantage he looked hard there were lots of them hiding from the light.  Constant checks over his shoulder told him that he was not being followed he would also check the trees; the crow the day before had un-nerved him a little!  Still the more he travelled with no sign the better the feeling please help me ‘help me get to safety!’

He walked slowly taking in the surrounding area and also taking in the landmarks after all you never knew if you’d have to return to the same spot!  In front of him there was a tall Atlantic white cedar; it was a funny shape the trunk went up then separated into two further trunks but these created a shape; almost like a love heart.  Samson smiled at the thought the love heart tree further up along one of the branches was a yellow throated warbler; it chirped several times; again Samson smiled.  It was the first time he had smiled properly since the nightmare had begun; his path took him beneath the large tree; winged seeds covered the floor some had begun to grow into small saplings.  The warbler chirped from above; suddenly something caught Samson’s eye?

He moved closer to the tree trunk to investigate; about six feet from ground level there was a clump of fur; Samson swallowed hard ‘bears’ he whispered as he checked in every direction!  There had been many stories of bear attacks in the Rockies, but as a wildlife fan he had also watched many programmes on the television that also told how bears were not as dangerous as people thought.  Whichever the case Samson did not want to wait around and find out; it was time to leave this area behind him and quickly, there was another incline to his right.  Samson negotiated the incline quickly, once at the top he made his way down the slight slope; sideways on he slid down the slope; a bit quicker than what he intended; leaving a small cloud of dust in his wake and also a bit more noise than he would have cared for!

Once he was on the flat he began walking quickly again still using the spear as a walking stick; Samson stopped suddenly what was that?  He listened intently trying to make out the sound it’s an engine of some kind or maybe a generator? ‘That’s no generator’ his mind began its optimistic thoughts ‘It’s a car; oh my God it’s a car!’  His heart was pumping furiously; hope began to take over him it must be a road and the road will lead to safety?  Samson began moving quicker now; he had turned onto another path and was marching toward the sound; although now the sound had almost disappeared!  It did not stop him from walking toward what he knew was the route to safety; back to civilisation, to a town, to a city and to the Police where he would report those murderers and what they did; what they did to his family.  Anger began to well inside as he thought about the prospect of turning in the men who had taken away his whole life ‘I’ll show you; you’ll pay for what you did to them; you’ll see!’

'Samson' Chapter 7 'The Cave'

'Samson' written by Dean Horton

 

 

CHAPTER 7 ‘The cave’

 

 

Samson picked up a brick and threw it toward the crow but it missed and crashed into the tree trunk, the crow did not budge; it just perched motionless and still it watched, watched Samson’s every move.  His cheek muscles clenched as he crouched down to pick up another brick; he brought his arm behind him and threw the brick as hard as he could; it left his hand heading directly for the crow; Samson could tell that the throw was true, but just before impact the crow hopped along the branch.  The brick sailed past the annoying bird and crashed into another branch further along; the crow cackled again before it took to flight; leaving Samson behind, it travelled back the way they had come.

With a worried expression Samson watched the Crow disappear around the bend in the path; something about all this bothered him!  Was the bird following him?  Perhaps the bird was leading them to him?  He swallowed nervously I think it is leading them; leading them directly to me!  Any normal time that thought would have been a stupid thought but this isn’t any normal time too much had happened, too much that could not be explained and this was just another of the unexplainable events to add to the ever increasing list.  Samson was not going to hang around to find out if the crow was leading them to him; he turned and began walking briskly.  Still holding the rucksack in his hand he dropped the water bottle inside; snapped shut the straps and slung the pack over his shoulder’s I’m outta here, gotta keep moving Samson! 

Samson walked for most of the day; he had no idea of the time as he continued walking it was relentless and tiring; he would stop every half a mile and take a sip of water, always cautious not to drink too much too quickly; his book had advised against this!  After hours upon hours of walking with no sign of anything except the odd animal scurrying around here and there, Samson had to rest.  He crouched down and filled his water bottle from the stream again before putting it back into his bag; his eyes searched around for somewhere to rest up, his legs were feeling the toll from his days march.  Samson now knew how soldiers felt; for that was how he now saw himself as a soldier on the run from the enemy.  If he didn’t rest up soon the chances were that his legs would seize up and if that happened he knew he would be in deep trouble.  The clothes he wore stuck to him, clinging tight like stretch-film; he could actually feel his moist trousers rubbing between his legs; chaffing his skin.  They had been rubbing him for a while; he had constantly been putting his hand down his trousers and walking with his hand between his legs; anything to stop the rubbing feeling!  If he was still a small child his mother would have put cream down there to stop the nappy rash; but he knew his mother was not here anymore, they had taken her away, taken her life; taken his world, he was the only one left, it began to dawn on him that he would never see any of them again, Samson was alone in the world, he had no-one! 

With heartbreak Samson dropped to his knees and began to cry, tears rolled down his dirty face making lines; not so neat lines as they formed their own unsteady route, a bit like his own route that day.  The tears came heavier now as they meandered down his cheeks; he used the back of his sleeve to wipe his eyes ‘what am I going to do?’  Samson was all out of ideas; at first it had seemed great just keep walking and he would find help; but in reality it didn’t work like that he had walked for near on a whole day and most of the previous night and he had seen no-one; not one sign of anybody; his situation was hopeless.  He had not seen one footprint, not a newly made path, no signs of food wrappers that some hiker may have left; he had not heard any sound other than the local wildlife.  The only consolation he had was that he had not seen those three murderers either; so long as it stayed like that he was safe but he also knew that the moment he bumped into them again he would be done for; he did not need any second voice to tell him that!

Feeling heavy and weak he unzipped his jacket and slipping out of it he placed it on the floor by his knees; next he leant over the stream and cupping his hands he splashed water all over his face and neck, splashing it up onto his head soaking his man-made headwear.  The water was cold; but it felt wonderful to feel cold again; the heat throughout the day had been unbearable; but deep down he felt good about the fact that he had been able to bear it; he had taken the heat, he had taken the terrain ‘hell I’m still alive aren’t I’ he muttered to himself while looking at his reflection in the steady flowing water of the stream.  He lay back on the dry ground looking up into the branches overhead; he could see wasps, bees , hornets all busy flying around; busy doing their daily routines.

Something bit his neck; Samson slapped at the spot; it was a good hit he felt whatever it was squash under his hand; he pulled it away and wiped the remains of the insect on his trousers.  Samson sat up; his eyes looked along the stream where he saw mosquitoes hovering above the slow flowing water time to cover up again I think he reached out to his damp fleece and pulling an uncomfortable face he slipped his arms back inside.  It was damp and immediately it stuck to his flesh it’s either that or I get bitten; you never know what diseases those things carry!  I can’t afford to catch anything bad he zipped the damp fleece up to his neck and opened up the rucksack where he took out the last of the biscuits.  Samson munched on the last of the biscuits; folding the empty wrapper he put it in the bottom of the rucksack, he was not going to leave any sign that he had been there; so his rubbish would have to go with him; that was something else he had read in the survival book.

Evening was approaching and judging by how far the sun had moved on the mountain side that lay in front of him Samson knew he would have to find somewhere to hide before it got dark.  Last night he had had no choice but to travel in the dark but now he needed to hold up; travelling at night was dangerous, he had been lucky so far in the dark how long will my luck hold out though?  During the previous night his ankle had gone down several ruts and he had tripped over on numerous occasions no, tonight I will camp down somewhere; I need to find a safe place!  Something else bothered him the men who were chasing him were not real men; he had seen that, the coloured mans features the way they moved around his face and the way their eyes glowed red in the dark.  Samson shivered it started in the base of his spine and travelled up to his neck; he had even sensed it, that they were bad and now his senses told him that the night belonged to them and he did not like that thought; yes, last night he had been very lucky ‘tonight I’m going to rest up, then see what tomorrow brings?’

Rising to his feet he picked up the rucksack and moved off into the undergrowth leaving the path behind him; he stopped suddenly and turned, something….he could not think what?  There was something on his mind, but for the life of him he could not bring it out into the open, Samson stood motionless looking around him, and then slowly his attention fell onto the area where he had just rested.  Samson looked at the bank by the stream; the bank where he had just lay; he could make out the land disturbed from his body yes that’s it…..you can clearly see where I’ve just been laying.  Bending down he picked up a small branch and made his way to where he had lay on his back; using the branch he swept the area, very gently covering the spot where he had been with leaves and dust ‘don’t get sloppy now Samson, you’ve come too far to fall.  He stepped back several paces and crouching down he studied the spot until he was happy with his result.  Still holding the branch he walked back into the undergrowth and placed the branch in the spot he had taken it from.  All day long he had tried his best to cover his tracks; and as they had not yet found him he must have done a good job so far; his senses were very reassuring!

Samson had walked around 800 metres into the undergrowth when he came upon a large bank it stretched away before him; he looked along the bank; looking for the safest route to take, his eyes caught sight of something!  Further along the bank off to his right and halfway down the slope there was a small clump of trees; just inside this clump of trees Samson could see a hole in the bank ‘a cave!’  If it was a cave he would have to be careful that there were no signs of a wild animal; but if it was empty it would make a great place to hold up for the night.  From where he stood now the cave was hard to see so at night time it would be even harder to spot; but then a thought came to him what if there is an animal in there and it attacks you ‘I need a weapon’ he felt stupid he was being chased by three men hold on a minute they aren’t men………three things and he had not even thought about getting himself a weapon how stupid do I feel? ‘How the hell do you defend yourself unarmed?’ he muttered to himself.

Samson scanned the ground around him, looking for a stick; something long enough to make a spear; he suddenly caught sight of a piece of branch around two metres long; he walked over to the branch and picked it up.  Samson held it tightly moving it from hand to hand getting a feel for its weight; he held it above his head then above his right shoulder, he nodded to himself happy with his choice.  He reached into his pocket and withdrew his penknife; opening the knife he searched for something; but he was not sure what he was looking?  A sudden idea came to him; he undid his belt from around his waist and pulled it out from the loops; next he used the blade to cut a long thin slither of leather; once he had got the long piece he used it to bind the penknife to the end of the stick.  Now you have a weapon ‘I don’t know what good it’ll do against a gun but what the heck!’  Samson re-threaded the belt back through the loops around his waist and tightened it securely; he picked up his spear and happy with it he headed cautiously toward the cave!

Several metres from the mouth of the cave Samson stopped and waited; he called quietly ‘hey’ the floor around the entrance did not look as though it had seen any activity it looked as though nothing had been there; there were no signs of animal tracks; and definitely no sign of humans.  But still he had to be careful, you could never be too sure, Samson picked up a brick and threw it gently into the opening which was around the size of three doors; he heard the brick land with a faint thud; nothing came out!  Holding the spear in front of him like a Zulu warrior he made his way into the mouth of the cave.  Samson was prepared for something to pounce, his breathing had ceased, yet still his heart pounded on his chest plate his whole body felt anxious.  He took another step his eyes constantly scanning every inch as he walked into the gaping hole, after every step he would halt and wait for several seconds before proceeding any further.  Once he was inside he carried on a little further checking out his new home; his home for the night anyway! 

The cave was empty there was no sign of anything having been in there for a long time; Samson walked in deeper.   The entrance chamber or mouth was around six metres square then it curved off into another slightly smaller chamber; the roof went lower as he moved into this second chamber, he noticed that in this second chamber there was another mouth halfway down along the left hand wall.  This opening was small and it was quite dark now ‘Samson you idiot’ cursing himself he slipped the pack from off his back and opening one of the pockets he pulled out his torch, instantly switching it on.  The cave lit up around him he knelt down by this second hole and shone the torch inside; it looked like it travelled back quite far; almost like a tunnel.  Samson lay there for a moment considering his options did he make camp here in this second chamber or try further down the tunnel?  It would get cold later as the night came and if he made camp here in this chamber there was no-way he could make a fire; the light and the smell would draw too much attention.  But if he were to move further into the cave through the tunnel there may be somewhere further inside; somewhere safe enough for him to have a little fire and keep himself warm? 

The thought of having a little warmth won him over; he left his pack on the side by the opening and grabbing the spear and his torch he crawled into the tunnel.  On hands and knees he crawled for around sixteen to twenty metres; his direction was downward all the way, his legs ached and the last thing he needed was for them to scrape along the hard floor come on Samson keep going you can rest up later.  Shining the torch ahead he could make out a dead-end, he sighed ‘what a waste of time’ his quiet voice sounded strange as it came back at him from the slight echo inside the tunnel, he let out an exasperated sigh.  Better get back to the surface he was just about to turn back, when he noticed something out the corner of his eye as he turned, he immediately turned back into the tunnel, it was not a dead-end, the tunnel moved off in either direction it was a T-junction!  Reaching the T-junction he shone the torch in both directions, left and right ‘eanie, meanie, minie, mo, which way shall I go?’  It amazed him again how strange his voice sounded in the confines of the tunnel; he looked along each tunnel; In both directions the tunnel carried on for several metres until again they turned ‘that way’ he took the tunnel to his left it was smaller than the route to the right; but that second voice in his head told him that was the best route to go.  Besides if this way was impassable he could double back and check in the other direction!

Two metres in this left hand tributary it curved off to the right; the roof lowered considerably and Samson was now belly crawling still on a downward slope; from the light of the torch he could see that it opened up further along the small tunnel.  After six or seven metres crawling, the tunnel did open up; it opened into a larger cavern; Samson lay in the tunnel and shone the torch around the cavern; stalactites hung from the ceiling; large shapes of calcium carbonate which had formed over hundreds probably thousands of years.  Water dripped from the stalactites gradual drips every twenty or so seconds they plopped into a small pool which lay in the middle of the floor stretching to the far wall.  Shining the torch back up to the ceiling he watched the water drip from the points; a steady “plop……plop……plop” he shone the torch at the pool watching the drips ripple in neat circles as they landed one by one.  They created patterns, the sound and the patterns that were being made soothed him; he shone the torch around the cavern again, then he looked back at the pool ‘the water must go somewhere?’ his echo whispered back at him.  He shone the light to the back wall to where the cavern dropped away ‘it must disappear through there’ his voice echoed quietly around the chamber.  This was where he would hold up for the night; he could chance a fire this far in and if the men came they would not be able to reach him through that gap; he looked back the way he had come and nodded to himself yes this a good place to hide out!

‘Right Samson; we’ve got work to do, firewood and bedding’ his voice was louder, it pinged from wall to wall, encircling his body you need to be quiet in here…..come on we’ve got to get a move on before dark with that he was back in the tunnel heading back the way he had come, heading back to the surface.  Once he was back in the second cavern he took off his headwear and put it into his rucksack; he could see that it was still light outside but he needed to move quickly and gather the things he needed before night time arrived.  Once the evening arrived it would not be long before the darkness came; that thought chilled him; sending goose-bumps all over his body; the darkness would probably bring them……. come on Samson; chop, chop, you need to get a move on!

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Akecheta had long since left the cliff face behind him; he had run for most of the day and now dusk was descending; he jumped and landed on a path; stopping instantly, something had his upmost attention!  Tyre tracks and recent ones at that he crouched down and felt the track, his fingers moved over the tyre ruts with a gentle precision, the feeling in his fingertips took in every contour of the jagged earth one or two days old he had a strange feeling in his nerve endings.  Rising to his feet he jogged along the track until two hundred metres later he again stopped motionless; up ahead he could see a car strange, someone has tried to disguise it?  Someone does not want to be seen as he looked harder into the foliage he could make out the make and the colour it was an old beaten up red mustang that is the car that they came her in, he could feel the evil emanating from it.  Without a second thought he had pulled the tomahawk from his belt and the bowie knife at the same time, holding one weapon in each hand.  He could feel the evil around the place as though the men who had travelled in the car had left a poisonous smell.  Akecheta could also feel that the men were not in the immediate vicinity but still he approached the deserted car with caution his weapons raised at the ready.  He moved silently across the ground toward the waiting car.

The tomahawk was held in his left hand and raised at shoulder height ready for any attack, the bowie knife in his right hand and out to the side; he was ready.  The car was now two metres away; his eyes scanned the floor at the tracks which had been left behind, Akecheta could feel his heart rate increasing fear is good and he knew fear was an impulsive instinct; just by looking at the tracks he could tell that there had been no recent activity around the car.  With his eyes constantly scanning around the deserted area he walked cautiously around to the bonnet and pushed his hand through some of the twigs until his palm touched the metal; with his hand pressed down firmly in the middle of the bonnet cold, that’s good his eyes were now drawn to a track that led into the undergrowth.  A track that someone had tried to camouflage anybody else would have missed it, but Akecheta was a skilled tracker.  Where he lived in the old reservations he was often asked by the local law agencies to track criminals who were on the run and with a one hundred per-cent success rate his gift of tracking was never questioned.  Definitely man made he walked on past the car and up the small bank until he reached the section that had caught his attention; four or five twigs were slightly snapped someone has walked through this place.  Akecheta stared down at the floor and noticed a boot print further inside sloppy, you try and hide the car and cover your tracks then leave broken twigs and boot prints?  Without any hesitation he followed the tracks; his movements still cautious and his senses were alert; he felt primed, he was ready for anything, that tingling feeling he had felt throughout the day was still there wakatanka is with me!

Stealthily he crept along the path, he crouched down and made out another set of boot prints, he placed the tomahawk back in its sheath and gently moved his hand along the set of prints.  He closed his eyes as he felt along the indentations in the ground you wear military boots and you’re lighter than the print back there!  Rising back to his feet, his senses heightened, he began following the tracks that had been left, he noticed a clump of trees and bushes and slowly he skirted around the edge, it was like a wall of leaves but inside there was cleared area.

Still holding the knife he stepped inside at a crouch ready for an attack, but none came, the cleared area was empty, but Akecheta could feel them, knew that the men he chased had spent a considerable amount of time there, in the place where he now stood.  As he scanned the floor he could now make out three separate sets of boot prints, his thoughts took him back to his floating dream and the three men he had seen.  As he looked further along he saw two indentations in the ground and instantly knew that two of the men had slept here.  He stepped over to where the men had slept and once again he crouched down and felt the floor, as he touched the floor a shiver crept along his spine, instantly he retracted his hand, his brow creased into a frown.  Still frowning he touched the floor again, this time no shiver came; but he was still uneasy, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on why did you sleep here and why only two of you…….where did the third man go?

Akecheta left the clump of trees that had been their base and cautiously made his way back to their car, once again he scanned the surrounding area, once he was sure that he was alone and unobserved he began checking the doors on the red mustang.  The driver’s door was locked and the one behind it, he walked around the front and then onto the passenger door that too was locked, he tried the door behind it; also locked.  He reached the trunk and moved his hand to the handle he turned and was about to walk away when it popped open.  ‘Well…..how about that for luck’ he opened the trunk wider and could see a radio transmitter/receiver with satellite connection.  The instant his eyes set site on their equipment the answers to his questions came to the forefront of his mind so one of you went walkabout while the other two get in radio contact ‘ok then but where did you go?’ 

Akecheta had followed the tracks that the men had left to their hideout and was now trailing where they had gone after they had left the hideout; his guess was that they had had some kind of military training; on the whole they had done a good job of covering their tracks.  But he did not have much trouble in tracking them; it was the smell; he could smell the evil that they had left wherever they had walked, it bothered him!  Before he had carried on tracking their movements he had sabotaged their car; letting down their tyres with the help of his large bowie knife and he had also pulled the plugs off the carburettor.  Now he was using the skills that his ancestors had used; his people were expert trackers, but still he progressed with caution the last thing he wanted was to bump into his enemy not just yet anyway! 

The journey continued and now as the dusk was settling heavier his feelings told him that there was an increased atmosphere up ahead; the evil was heavier, a lot heavier; he could make out a dirt track through the trees; this track by the look had a lot more vehicle activity.  The route the three men had taken was skirting the dirt vehicle track; their path through the forest was almost parallel.  It was then that he saw it?  Up ahead through the trees and the gloom of the coming night he could make out a building; it was a cabin and as soon as his eyes set sight upon it he realised that he had found the source of the evil atmosphere they must be inside he could feel the evil weighing heavily around him; with each step forward his nerve ends tingled!

He approached the edge of the clearing stealthily; once there he skirted the perimeter of the cabin, always hidden by using the trees; his bow was now out and he had an arrow ready to fire; Akecheta was ready for the coming confrontation.  Once he had done a lap of the cabin perimeter he decided that he needed to get in close quarters; he had not seen any sign of the men he had been tracking I need to get closer, I have to see inside.  He took off the rolled up blanket and placed it on the floor at the base of a tree, then he leant up his bow and his quiver of arrows.  With tensed muscles Akecheta pulled out his tomahawk and the large bowie knife; with his weapons ready one in each hand time to go!

Akecheta sprinted toward the cabin using the cover of the large Mitsubishi Warrior parked on the gravel driveway; he rounded the parked vehicle and with four more steps was leaning against the wall of the cabin.  His heartbeat was fast, the fear had returned, he knew he was close to the evil that Annawan had sent him to confront soon you will know if you truly are the fighter he stood stone still, motionless for two minutes regulating his breathing, his eyes were closed as he gently breathed in and out, preparing himself to move.  At last he opened his eyes, his heart and his breathing were under control, he glanced along the wall.  The window which looked out from the kitchen was two metres to his right, he shuffled toward the window still aware of the evil odour that lingered around the cabin, once at the window he stealthily glanced inside the room, instantly withdrawing his head so as not to leave himself in the open empty; the room is empty.  He peered inside again this time for longer; the room was gloomy but not enough to stop him from seeing inside; from this window he could see into the lounge; again that too was empty, he swallowed nervously.  He noticed the French doors were broken and had just been pulled too, but even with an open door as an invitation Akecheta still had to check out the rest of the cabin from the outside.

Next he made his way around the timber building until he came to the bedroom window; he felt a shiver go down his spine this feels strange following the same procedure as before he glanced quickly inside then withdrew while his mind replayed what he had just seen.  Bodies…….there are bodies on the wall and the bed!  Akecheta peered in through the window once more but this time for longer; his heart sank at what he saw ‘who could do this?’  Bile rose in his throat as the evil presence hung around the cabin; he wanted to feel angry but he could not all he could find inside him was pity ‘Annawan what evil is this?  That can do these horrors!’  Still looking through the window he could see down the dark hallway that eventually led to the front door; he could see writings on the bedroom walls and on the walls that panned the hallway, words that he could not read, a language that he did not know.  There were pictures and verses; he could feel himself becoming afraid, a cold shiver slid down his spine please help me Annawan, help me fight this evil.

There were no words spoken to him but something; some force or unknown power or a kind of sixth sense was telling him to do something!  Akecheta moved his hand down to the third pouch on the old belt that was fastened around his waist, he flipped open the flap and dipped his hand inside, withdrawing his hand he pulled out a handful of yellowy powder.  Without even giving it a second thought he began skirting the outside of the cabin sprinkling the powdery substance onto the ground; as he walked he chanted words that he did not know; he was almost in a trance as he carried out the ritual; his veins tingled with each second that passed.  Once he had completed a lap of the cabin; his own mind began to come back into focus; the evil feeling that he had felt earlier had subsided.  With one last look inside the cabin he turned on his heels and headed back to where he had left his gear; as he walked he felt a saddening in his heart ‘I should bury them’ you cannot it would waste too much time; time that the white boy does not have ‘well I will have to come back and bury them’ we will see! 

After walking and running for a further two hours Akecheta decided he would rest now, darkness was now descending on the wilderness.  He hoped with all his heart that the white boy was out of harm’s way; that little feeling told him that the boy was safe for the time being perhaps it is Wakatanka that is telling me?  He gathered up some fire-wood and piled it into a small mound; he held a clump of dried bark and shrub and using a flint he created small sparks which caught the clump of dried foliage instantly.  Holding the smouldering clump in his hands he knelt down by the mound of twigs; he placed the smouldering clump inside the small opening he had left at the base of the mound of twigs.  Crouching on all fours and bowing his head down low he began to blow; a gentle but constant blow, getting right under the small smouldering cinders.  Within seconds the mound of twigs was alight; he sat cross-legged watching the fire catch; his blood still felt strange; an unusual energy had been with him all day and was still with him now.  On the floor next to his bow was a dead hare that he had caught earlier, when he had left the cabin; he pulled out his large bowie knife and skinned the hare like a professional butcher.  Once the hare had been skinned he skewered it and placed it above the fire; he would eat and rest; then in the early hours of the morning he would continue on the quest to which he had been entrusted.  ‘Tomorrow will be a long day’ he whispered to the fire; his thoughts turned to the boy tomorrow I will find him and lead him to safety of that he was sure ‘Annawan will guide me!’

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